Long Equaled Poems
Long Equaled Poems. Below are the most popular long Equaled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Equaled poems by poem length and keyword.
In the beginning ...," roosts;
Christians and Jewish boosts.
Hubs stretched out their ellipsed
rung, un-Earth cures eclipsed
space; science clues darkling,
emerging as sparkling.
Up and down, primordial
chains--retards cordial.
Time slot checking briefly
when brain cells claim chiefly.
Focused an analyst
review a panelist,
truth and not devious;
now, post-, and previous.
Be of good health, nourish,
mindful, and to flourish
together ... we harness
our outreached true farness.
Constants are the scatheful,
equaled by the faithful ...
life marks trails that puncture
time cross-over juncture.
Naysayers, "That's crackpot!"
Truth smiles at the jackpot
as hopes, a bit mournful
of those fiercely scornful
Truth be told--mortified,
unseat those fortified,
advent-relegating
actions delegating,
doting are distinguished
evil hailed extinguished,
sage passage dutiful,
heart imparts beautiful.
Gauging your fealty
accents self-realty ...
descension diminished;
exalted goals finished.
Daily scriptures strengthen,
understanding lengthen
all regenerated
by the venerated.
A righteous behavior,
prophets teach, a savior ...
of a lost lamb was--not,
for The Shepherd does--not,
hence, Heaven will cherish,
hell reroutes won't perish,
reborn renews brilliance,
transforming resilience.
It stood magnificently in front of our Churchyard,
Like the sacred fig tree before any temple-yard;
My going to church, as a boy, had no other reason,
Than picking all bird-dropped fruits, as a mission;
Collecting as many as possible hastily,
Pushing them into my knickers-pocket quietly;
Thinking of them all through the Holy Mass,
Waiting for the priest to say the final grace;
Hurrying to a corner where no humans see,
Place, as lonely as the very loneliness could be;
Savouring the sour-sweet taste spread over it,
Then breaking it with stones to get the nuts in it;
Quantity of it equaled as little as a butter drip,
Or as much as ten mustard seeds put as a strip;
Relishing it as though nectar of ancient sages,
Coming down to mine tongue from all the ages;
In youth tastes changed and matters mattered,
And this almond became very old fashioned;
Burgers, Pizzas, hotdogs and all tasted well,
Though, consuming them, I often was unwell;
I saw boys and girls picking almonds as I did,
And hurrying to corners and I understood;
The ‘grown-up’ in me prohibited me from doing so,
It’s hence I hid my child within, as a rainbow;
Abroad, I almost forgot the Indian almond tree,
As within me, I was bored and never really free;
I had my worries of marriage and children,
Who’d care for a tree with no monetary gain?
It’s when I went to my home town casually,
It’s under that tree I found my future lily;
We married and got children who grew,
Both with tastes so modern and new;
Yet, it’s when once we visited the churchyard,
My younger lingered over that fruit so thrilled;
We offered him sweet almonds from stores,
And supermarkets that made him to uproar;
He collected for long as much as he could,
And each little one he collected for him he hid;
He too, later, had his dreams and worries,
Sophistications seismically so seduce, seize;
Church now demolished and grounds cleared,
For newer one to construct all well renewed;
I found this almond tree got fully uprooted,
And thrown into a corner like an old harp muted;
I cried and cried till I could cover the tears,
As though I’d hidden my feelings for many years…
30 July 2021
Finding Your Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Impossible mission for yours truly,
sans this dada to validate
those two most significant mentors,
no paternal biased trait,
(who I helped beget) enroute to great
adventures toward enormously
enviously exciting destinations,
thus birth father doth ululate
eternal burning tears boding
indefinite fare thee well,
cuz propensity to
become autonomous innate
within each body electric,
and offload emotional freight
unnervingly, unscrupulously, unwittingly...
within impressionable off
us spring psychs did create,
(especially thine eldest)
perceived intentionally deliberate
indelible, unbearable, undeniable,
unforgettable, unlearnable, unpardonable,
untenably insufferable state
psychological crimes, misdemeanors,
and punishments who bore brunt
regarding mine cratered distrait
parental moon unit gravitational pull
thus itching to break free
and cleared eighteenth circuit atop oblate
spheroid around nearest star
December twenty second, sans
(bench marked circa 1996), her birthdate
I unknowingly long fostered
execrable despicableness and did generate
antipathy, loathsomeness, vileness...
ripe opportunity she hightailed out our
reprehensible company she did hate
despising dirt poor existence portrait-
quick to compare/contrast our pennilessness
with rich Mainliners, where dire strait,
i.e. particularly financial since household
income equaled zilch figuratively
queued, hexed, aligned... with eight
ball, cuz we wanted progeny late
in life, despite afflictions
with mental illness
additionally unkempt, unsightly, untidy,
where chaos and entropy did administrate
residence discouraged "star student,"
nee repulsed offering extending
invites to any chummy classmate,
plus inapropos behavior,
I exhibited oblivious impact
analogous bing saddled to heavyweight
see millstone upon first born psyche
even now, she smolders
thus doth dissociate
with this "sir" and missus,
oh yes...much more aye could narrate!
"What's My Worth"
What is my worth
Have I failed
Has my boat went ahead and sailed
Did I leave myself on the shore
Because I was valuedy lessaawe
When I knew I equaled more
So what do I do
What can I say
To get back those years
Nobody could replace
Pick myself up without a doubt
Learning my value is what it's all about
Find the value of yourself
Stop looking for it in everybody else (everybody else)
Search for yourself
But don't think twice
Everything that has value comes with a price
Continue to be happy with you
Discover your awesome truth
Currency is broken down out of order
Like pennies,nickels,dime and quarters
That's how our life sometimes feels out of order
What's the value of self worth
Get it together
Stop allowing your self to get hurt
Stop making decisions without a clear vision
To yourself be loyal
We have a Father that's Royal
He said so as a man thinketh so Is he
So you determine what you want to be
Anything is possible
Don't put a limit on yourself
It's costable
Find the value of yourself
Stop looking for it in everybody else (everybody else)
Search for yourself
But don't think twice
Everything that has value comes with a price
Continue to be happy with you
Discover your awesome truth
Don't give up on your dreams
Stop looking for things
That are materialistic
Look inside yourself or maybe you missed it
Revise look up and down
Life so rewarding go get your crown
Don't put yourself down
It's not a good feeling
Ask God for supernatural healing
Don't dis encourage for you can have to
But first you have to learn your value
Find the value of yourself
Stop looking for it in everybody else (everybody else)
Search for yourself
But don't think twice
Everything that has value comes with a price
Continue to be happy with you
Discover your awesome truth
Repeat until chorus fade
Written by: Concetta Hardnett
2/24/15
"What's My Worth"
What is my worth
Have I failed
Has my boat went ahead and sailed
Did I leave myself on the shore
Because I was valued less
When I knew I equaled more
So what do I do
What can I say
To get back those years
Nobody could replace
Pick myself up without a doubt
Learning my value is what it's all about
Find the value of yourself
Stop looking for it in everybody else (everybody else)
Search for yourself
But don't think twice
Everything that has value comes with a price
Continue to be happy with you
Discover your awesome truth
Currency is broken down out of order
Like pennies,nickels,dime and quarters
That's how our life sometimes feels out of order
What's the value of self worth
Get it together
Stop allowing your self to get hurt
Stop making decisions without a clear vision
To yourself be loyal
We have a Father that's Royal
He said so as a man thinketh so Is he
So you determine what you want to be
Anything is possible
Don't put a limit on yourself
It's costable
Find the value of yourself
Stop looking for it in everybody else (everybody else)
Search for yourself
But don't think twice
Everything that has value comes with a price
Continue to be happy with you
Discover your awesome truth
Don't give up on your dreams
Stop looking for things
That are materialistic
Look inside yourself or maybe you missed it
Revise look up and down
Life so rewarding go get your crown
Don't put yourself down
It's not a good feeling
Ask God for supernatural healing
Don't dis encourage for you can have to
But first you have to learn your value
Find the value of yourself
Stop looking for it in everybody else (everybody else)
Search for yourself
But don't think twice
Everything that has value comes with a price
Continue to be happy with you
Discover your awesome truth
Repeat until chorus fade
Written by: Concetta Hardnett
2/24/15
Form:
The Hush of Christmas Past
It came more slowly then.
After Thanksgiving
the lights and decorations
started showing up.
The excitement started to build.
Santa showed up at the
department store, The
ads in the newspapers
were larger, some even
in color. There was talk of
“the list”, and “naughty or nice”.
It was agonizing – waiting for
the night Mom said “OK, let’s
go buy the tree”. The trip to
the back lot behind the
super market, “This one…
NO! THIS ONE!” We carried
the tree - by any means possible -
remembering Mom’s warning:
“Remember, you will have to
carry that big tree home.”
The tree was somehow decorated.
Lights, tinsel, bulbs, each one someone’s
favorite, ribbons, bows, a picture
of the cat. Now the speculation
began in earnest. “Whadaya
think you’re gonna get?”. “OH,
I hope, I hope, I hope”, “But I can’t
tell you, it’s a secret.” We knew there
would probably be sox, some new
PJ’s, mittens – the usual. But there
would also be those other nicely
wrapped gifts – from Santa.
The baseball glove, the skates,
the “un-wrapable” scooters, bikes,
baseball bats, hockey sticks.
These were always brought by
Santa Clause. Santa supplied the
dreams, Mom and Dad the gifts.
We provided the unmistakable
sounds of Christmas morning.
There would be church and a
Christmas dinner, lost amid the
joy of dreams. Dreams of snagging
that line drive with the new baseball
glove, of racing down the hill on
the bike, of Bobby Orr like moves
with the new skates.
The colored lights took their cue
from the setting sun as we gathered
around the table and savored the
sweet, juicy, succulence of Mom’s -
never to be equaled – Apple Pie.
John G. Lawless
11/22/2014
submitted to HUSH OF CHRISTMAS PAST – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Mystic Rose
wing my loss) if grim reaper
came for das scribe as skew
ward poem attempted to infer, now
circling back to your queue
ped ditty linkedin with aforementioned
poppycock poo poo
merely a hypothetical premise aye drew
if my unexpected demise took place
husbanding half a motley crue
(ideally such unexpected tragedy
ideally tubby quick and painless)
without war ning, via internal bombardier
in tandem with luft waffe.
Sorry for rather somber tone -
but this psychological state
of yo dough less bro
affected by his reading,
autobiography coup (now, no idea titled tract)
d’état of Abraham Lincoln -
the author drew
my rapt attention (american history
strong interest) – whereby
past, present n near fee var few
chore wrenched with both
prized progeny persevering
(as they should) a path to hew
of their own making,
which steps toward emancipation
(worthy proclamation) for gentile or Jew,
these kindred (chromosomal byproducts
from countless chanced
genetic dice throws)
perhaps n uncle or aunt a bit loo
knee, perchance dna housed new
bile queen of the nile,
where (August) Caesar
didst hotly pursue
anyway....yes, lives of
deux darling daughters
un wii ting lee triggered flashback,
when self worth equaled zero
tricked, replayed, and generated
mine horror silent film
to rewind at nadir total fall out,
when anorexia nervosa did stew
underscore ring (four decades plus…) true
value of this moment colliding
with elapsing squandered
youth in rear view
mirror, unseen only
by ma doppelganger,
I now close with whew!
Broken tick-tock
Ghetto gazette news
Nobody’s fixing the clock
Alarm is stuck on snooze
A lot of people hearts dozed off in a bottle,
hoping a taste of liquid happiness
would make their troubles all go away
Temporarily it felt like it did
But hard booze and brew-skis
only sent their life on the skids,
a fatal downward slope
Using alcohol and dope equaled no hope
Last day of the week, life ain’t nothing but a party
First day of the week, bleary eyes now seeking relief
Row after row filled in the church pews
Trodden down souls
wanting to hear the good gospel news
Preacher tells them,
God’s gonna save everybody, including you
But he ain’t sermonizing the straight hard truth,
that things are gonna get worse before they get better
A lot of pain in store ... a lot of tribulation,
before you get that sweet sober taste of salvation
But for poor ghetto souls, this ain’t no breaking news:
We’ve always been given eight days worth of seven day blues
Now if preacher man is telling them that,
he’s speaking the gospel truth
Ghetto souls have always been given
eight days worth of seven day blues
Such a heavy burden has always been put on us, this ain’t nothing new
An extra helping of sabbath pain,
God’s trying to warn you to get close to Him again
Eight days worth of seven day blues,
such an oppressive burden heavily taxing you
Eight days worth of seven day blues,
that’s all that the Devil has in store for you
So get on your knees and start to pray,
then rise ... open your eyes and recognize:
The first day of the rest of your life is starting off okay
Eight days of heaviness ain’t got no more weight
No more seven day blues,
only the joyous sound of righteous news
Some say that our people
will never, ever get along,
that skin is our ‘identity,’
that old, bigoted song.
Some must always be victims,
and others will oppress,
the groups A, B, C are awful,
but D, E, F are best.
I don’t care much for that,
but one thing is clear,
taking home Shanise tonight,
so wingman, hold my beer.
Others cry technology
is destined to stagnate,
that another dark age
we should anticipate.
They say we don’t innovate,
our minds are growing dim,
they rightly point out failures
enforced by government.
But I saw the private rocket fly,
brought me nearly to tears,
I’ll get to space so kindly
shut up, and hold my beer.
Many of the academics
say that the glories past
can never be equaled,
and teach post-modern trash.
Disregard for story-tellers
is their latest theme,
thinking to find greatness
with no plot or strong leads.
That’s what they’re resigned to,
there are no more Shakespeares,
the creative mind smirks and
says,”Buddy, hold my beer.”
Loud voices say religion
is unenlightened clap-trap,
then they cannot figure out
why more young men snap.
They say prayer is backwards,
a superstitious lie,
that is serves no purpose,
has outlived its time.
But the Big Man told me
to tell you loud and clear
that you should look to your soul,
and also, hold His beer.
All across this hard Earth
they say we are doomed,
our flaws are overwhelming,
the end if coming soon.
Trendy are the misanthropes,
be they green or ivory,
they celebrate failure,
rationalize misery.
Acting as if it’s all done,
there are no more frontiers,
but human will doesn’t quit,
step back, and hold my beer.
When a man dies for freedom,
we don’t know what we’ve lost,
since most of us can’t tell
the shining from the dross.
We live in the safety
these braver souls have built,
never having to face
the world of kill or be killed.
When a man dies for freedom
some mock him verily,
say it’s 'not worth dying for,'
that it’s all ‘bigotry,’
forgetting that they say that
safe in the world brave men made,
using all their sophistry
to hide their jealous hate.
When a man dies for freedom
we weaken at the core,
because that man’s example
walks amongst us no more.
We try to tell children
to look up to that name,
but despite this, without them
our nation’s not the same.
When a man dies for freedom
and beats his enemy,
he buys with blood one moment
his people can live free.
Some may think that this price
is much too high to pay,
those people don’t remember
what it is to be a slave.
When a man dies for freedom
we honor that man’s grave,
make him an example
of how the good behave,
sing songs at his eulogy,
remember him alive,
try to glorify him but
we need to realize
none can sing his praises,
none need carry the pal,
when a man dies for freedom
he does not die at all.
He ascends to Heaven
and sits at God’s left hand,
his memory a calling
to the free hearts of man.
When a man dies for freedom,
no matter what else he’s done,
he’s earned his redemption,
he is equaled by none.
It is for us remaining
here on this mortal plain,
to boldly live our freedoms,
or else it was in vain.