Long Feel good Poems
Long Feel good Poems. Below are the most popular long Feel good by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Feel good poems by poem length and keyword.
I love nature.
I love the wind and rain.
I love it when the thunder roars
I love it when it pours, lightning flashes,
thunder crashes.
I love nature, sunshine and bright blue Sky's,
I love the wind in my face.
I love how it makes me feel, good and free,
Ready to coast on a breeze.
I love sitting outside.
I Love Listening to the birds sing,
Looking up at the sky,
Watching the cloud's go by.
I love nature, spring, summer, and
Sometimes winter, especially snow on
the twenty fifth of December, It's definitely
a memory to always remember Sitting at the
table with family and friends
Having Christmas dinner,
Looking out the window
Watching the snow fall down.
I love January, February, March,
April May, for everything new, for
All in bloom. June and July for I love summer too
For warm nights, listening to the sounds
Of nature, under the stars and the moon light
Let's not forget fall,
It's the most colorful season of all.
Warm and windy days,
With the wind blowing the leaves.
As I watch from a distance,
the leaves falling from the tree's.
I love nature,
I love being outdoors.
It makes me feel alive,
It makes me feel good inside.
Nature provides, food, water,
and the air we breathe.
Always remember to have respect
What has been given to you.
For nature is a part of our life line.
David W Carter
You ignite the
romance of my dreams.
I wish to encroach your
lips with my
tasty sandwich of perfected
rosemary teat.
I'll make your brain
immune to my soul
so you become out
of breath when far
from your source.
My toes will python
your emotions,
make you feel good with
motions that can't be
found in Neptune.
Oh! my Fairy prince,
should I Massage
those fire clay
masculinity and
blow your mind out of its organ?
I'm devoured by the
moans of your consistency.
Devoted to the strings of
your intentionality.
Should I delineate your
cubes of grip so it
illuminates the lines
of storytellers?
Or are you too shy to
tell the world that,
You're the heel of
my heart, the calf
of my stamina.
The spine of the moon
and the Larynx of the dark stars.
Honey!
I'll let you dance to the rhythm of Calla
Lily while I paint in the beams of Zinnias.
Tell me a story about a person's adventure
where they went and what they what they did
tell me who they interacted with and what was crazy.
Tell me what mistakes they made,
and the lessons they learned.
Tell me a story that makes me feel good,
but some stories make me really mad.
Tell me a story about an animal,
crawl inside the mind of the beast.
Let me know if the animal interacted with a human
in ways good or in ways really bad.
Was the animal in your story a hero
or just a sidekick?
Maybe you have a story about a fictional character
who floats on the clouds up above.
Or maybe the fictional character
rakes the embers of the underworld below
after all your fictional charter was the villain of the show.
But when you tell me a story of any kind
the time we are together will be quality time.
Brady was the naughtiest puppy in the whole city.
At night such a baby, during the day sassy and witty.
He had eight siblings and must have been defiant.
Oh no! My naughty boy was never going to be compliant.
He was just a frustrating puppy thinking he was giddy.
His first Christmas with us we thought he'd enjoy
what Santa Claus left in his stocking, a ducky toy.
It was just like the one his brother Mugsy did love,
now that sweet brother of his rests gently above.
I thought this ducky Brady would love then destroy.
So he stared at it for awhile thinking it wasn’t for him.
The whole Christmas day his mood was sad and dim.
We thought he was sick and maybe didn’t feel good,
he looked lonely and abandoned, so misunderstood.
“What is wrong with Brady? Why is he so dismally grim?”
I noticed ducky was a foot away from where he was laying,
and still couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t playing.
So I had a thought and took ducky away for a minute,
Brady missed Mugsy; life’s not the same without him in it.
Just then Brady perked up and again joy he was conveying.
How beautifully sad it was to see my naughty boy feel the pain
of losing his brother, now a compassionate boy I did gain.
So I felt awful for buying him a toy that looked just like
Mugsy’s ducky toy that caused his unusual sadness to spike.
It was delightfully sad seeing SWEET BROTHER MEMORIES REMAIN.
December 16, 2018
Christmas Pets - Writing Challenge December 2018 - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
My perfect imitation of a pilot in motion
cautiously pushing forward, paying attention
to all details is a trick of the virtual imagination...
using agile hands, as if they actually were two fluttering wings,
focusing with vigilant eyes looking straight at scurrying clouds:
as he swiftly travels to his set destination.
Peaceful is our Earth below,
four oceans, four continents
and thousands of small islands...
while acres of forests burn, and rivers follow
their irruptive course as humans do...
but suddenly all vanishes into the amazing blue!
What I discover beneath, no eyes would see,
what I hear around and above nobody can hear;
only angels surveilling can anticipate dangers
and warn us through meteorologists what's coming;
many ships have sunk into the unpredictable sea:
the tragedy of the Titanic followed others of lesser scale,
who is really safe on unstable ground or even in the turbulent air?
garbage dumped into our oceans: tomorrow will kill many a whale!
This voyage carefully planned won't be my last ever,
the shorter ones are considered to be less dangerous:
attentiveness is a must, not excluding a tragic crash so loud
due to weather, or to a mechanical failure; could I surrender
when chaos is real and the humming airplane changes sound?
Should I allow the aircraft to plunge into the surging waves?
My perfect imitation of a pilot
allows me to feel good: flying is practice, not art!
Then, is the furthest sky the limit of all adventures,
of all aspirations an explorer turns into realistic dreams?
Are there rewards for his part?
Millions go without food
While feel-good stories blare
Vibrations shatter ideas
That prevent humans from care
Look around next door
Poverty parades the streets
Money minds mansions
While war drums methodically beat
The contrast is a golden calf
Erected at the city square
Rich and poor, sinner and saint
Playing at musical chair
At the front of the class
Suffering is our teacher
Trying to escape her rod
Humanity dives deeper
The soil aids our descent
The weeds gather 'round
We aim for TRUTH
While they purposefully crown
....intelligence
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11-10-2025
I have four grown grand children, and it seems that
they could not wait to inform me of their most recent
accomplishment. It appears that they fail to realize that
there are kids who just turned 50 but never grew UP.
Like my 'grown grands', many of us Christians readily fit
such a description. We know not the meaning of drinking a bitter CUP. Sometimes, we parents are to BLAME, and that's a SHAME, because there is no maturity if we never make a CHANGE.
There is no butterfly if there is no STRAIN within the COCOON. Neither is there human development if we are continually fed from a SPOON.
A lady in the Bible desired that her sons be granted a special SEAT*. I understand how parents feel, but sometimes they make us WEEP.
The same thing applies to leaders who do not properly feed their SHEEP. Our physical as well as mental health requires that we have a balanced diet.
We cannot obtain nor retain spiritual health if leaders simply keep quiet.
Salt is vital for preservation as well as seasoning, but too much salt is very deadly. We cannot afford to act and think like children, many of whose diet is filled with CANDY; nor has The Lord promised to be our 'sugar DADDY'. A life without deserts is bland and dull, but too much sugar can lead to an early GRAVE.
Only a balanced diet consisting of the full counsel of God will enable us to be strong and BRAVE. It is not about making everybody feel good and keeping everyone HAPPY. May we grow to be balanced believers, loving God and feasting on His truth.
0125421FBPS*Matthew 20:21
A group of couples met for lunch—
a quick one—talked, and watched the clock.
They spoke of their demanding jobs.
Must soon get back—tick-tock, tick-tock!
So many things they used to do,
they’ve little time for nowadays,
like board-game nights with family
or helping with church Christmas plays.
They once found time to show concern
for shut-ins in the neighborhood
by doing home-repairs for free.
Those times made everyone feel good.
Some once played instruments or sang,
wrote poetry or painted scenes
from nature—talents they let die
when they were barely past their teens.
*********************
The thought of guitars never played,
piano keys not touched for years,
blank pages in a writing pad,
and unused canvases brings tears.
Imagine shut-ins with no help,
church programs falling by the way,
and game nights that don’t come to pass.
Some can’t work these into their day!
The way we use our precious gift
of time determines what will thrive
and what will not. Good stewards see
that better things in life survive.
Date: September 22, 2018
Contest Title: The Parable of the Talents Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Holly Hippocampus
Every time you turn the television on these days there's breaking news
I can remember the days when a big news story was a fireman rescuing a cat from a tree was something we viewed
What has happened to our world to make it seem to be out of control
All this madness going on out there is surely taking its toll
Instead of talking things out these days, a person's first reaction seems to be rage
Our news media continues to spread bad news on all the world's stages
All is not all bad with our planet, however the feel-good stories are not all being told
We need to work together to allow innovative new ideas to unfold
If you checked your plumbing lately you would probably find the middle class going down the drain
The high cost of living is, and the struggle to survive is simply insane
The only breaking news I want to hear, that peace and harmony have returned to our lives
Things have to change for the better if we want our planet to survive
Missin’ me
What happened to me
I’m a shell of a man
It’s been a long time seeing this man, staring back at me from this mirror
I haven’t seen this man for awhile now
No, I haven’t seen me
For a long, long, time
Oh those days of laughter and carefree days seem to be so far away
In my head, storms never seem to stop now
A broken man, now
I have so much pain to heal from now
So it’s rainin’ again inside, against my windowpane
My eyes stained from the inside, burns like fire
With all these tears
My brain so twisted from the wreckage of what I’ve become
It’s time to party
It’s time to feel good
Cause I’m not spending one more minute
In this storm
Call me a broken man
Ya
But I can party
And your memory will disappear
from my blackout
Ya I can party and leave this storm behind me now