Long Fora Poems
Long Fora Poems. Below are the most popular long Fora by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fora poems by poem length and keyword.
7 Versos Livres
Crença
O meu e o Seu coração
pode assumir qualquer forma:
1. Um prado para gazelas,
2. Um claustro para monges,
3. Um bálsamo para doentes
4. solo sagrado para crentes.
O credo do coração
é amor;
presente onde quer
que seu caminho se desvie.
Isso é a crença do coração
a fé do coração.
************
Morrer para renascer
Sempre pergunte:
"Estou pronta para
mudar a minha vida,
estou pronta
para me mudar?”“.
Em qualquer idade
seja o que for que passamos,
é sempre possível renascer.
************
Dificuldades, Problemas e Erros Linguísticos
A maioria
das Dificuldades
e dos problemas do mundo
deriva de erros linguísticos
e simples mal-entendidos.
Evite os erros:
nunca tome palavras pelo valor de face.
Quando você entra na zona do amor,
a linguagem como a conhecemos
se torna obsoleta.
Aquilo que não pode ser colocado
em palavras
só pode ser compreendido
através do silêncio.
************
Ecos da montanha e o mundo
Este mundo é como uma montanha.
Seu eco depende de você.
Se você gritar coisas boas, o mundo vai devolver.
Se você gritar coisas ruins, o mundo vai devolver.
Fale sempre o bem.
Seja grata.
Mude seu coração para mudar o mundo.
************
Passado e Futuro
O passado é uma interpretação.
O futuro está na ilusão.
O mundo não se move no tempo
procedendo do passado
para o futuro.
O tempo passa através
e dentro de nós,
em espirais infinitas.
A eternidade é intemporalidade.
Se quer experimentar
a iluminação eterna,
coloque o passado
e o futuro
fora de sua mente
e permaneça no momento presente.
Assim,
Vai criar um grande futuro
Hoje.
************
Onde procurar
Onde procurar o céu
e o inferno no futuro.
Acredite:
ambos estão agora presentes.
sempre que conseguimos amar sem expectativas,
amar sem cálculos,
sem negociações,
estamos de fato no céu.
Sempre que brigamos,
Ou odiamos, estamos no inferno.
************
Pacienciar
O que significa
pacienciar?
Significa
olhar para o espinho
e ver a rosa,
olhar a noite
e ver o amanhecer.
Impaciência significa
ter visão curta
e não ver a fruta
na semente.
Pessoas bem resolvidas
Pacienciam e
sabem que o tempo
é necessário
para que a lua crescente
se torne plena
a semente crie frutas.
Some watching my ease
Of execution of the self
The latent anxiety unteased
Writes me off in simplicity.
Some denuding me of honor's wealth
Wait in turmoil
For a scab to fall and unveil its pus
And if I do not flinch for pain
Writes coward beside my name
Some deck out in borrowed jewels
Could not stop me looking at the stars
They heard only my polite conversation
Saw my faith
And did not understand the transformation of desire
The restructured purpose of the heart
The difference in whose I am
They frightened ran
Frantic to recompose themselves in fear
They judged me like the world again
But O how deep the flow
Of divine grace
That such may come and find nothing in me.
I am a man of firm convictions
I know the way all things should go
Before they go
I watch the frightened blunder
Inventing old salvation in new fora
I do not yield to that
Peace is a vision of the broken self
The spontaneous abolition of lies
Do not give the heart too much grandeur
It blinds the vision to the soul
Reeks havoc of self interpretation
For before the strong delusion
Comes the lie
Do you not remember how impolite you were
How disrespectful
How nasty the tone of argument and action
And how he opened not his mouth
Waiting for you to come to confession
That gives a man a sense of justice
To execute judgment without compassion
And yet, great Christ, you wait for repentance.
You have your Barabbas
And yet you have no peace
How can right disturb the heart at rest
We weave a tangled mess
In a world of pride, but patience is a a door
I left it open
Without pain
For what you have become, what you manifest
I would not cry, could not cry for cess
Barabbas means himself well
But his history is a figment, his tale a lie
And then again
What power could sin have over sin
Poor, weak, wretched, vain
How your pretext falls like dusk
How bewildering the edge of night
If you see me again
Please note that I am the same
And through my door
Comes those who have forgotten pain
For I built it so
To admit the naked form alone
Be mortified at my door
You cannot come until you are purged
It is your life
I have neither haste nor urge
Only you can make right
I can only hold the light
For under my cosy exterior of ease
You will find again
Just what you see outside.
admittely i am one treasonous cat
and people everywhere had better take note
i ain't no republican nor democrat
and i don't see any reason for phools to vote
listen up people,
politics are a plague perceived of by desperate men
folks who sold themselves out fora few sheckles or less
and i must confess Jefferson and Franklin, quite frankly, were all fu**ed up
they dictated this declaration that declared us free to pursue our independence
but in the parenthesis they lasciviously limited our liberties
then there are those conventions that follow conventions conceived of by phools
and i'd appreciate it if someone could explain their rules
because conventions are circuitous circuses minus three rings and decorum
a most useless and absurd forum
they do, however, contain clowns that pour out of tiny little cars
and reveal a sick society's scars
they are meetings for a faction of felonious freaks who foist phoolishness on phools in places like Philly that are simply silly
or elsewhere
as they run around willy nilly casting votes akin to a fishing rod aimed at a pitiful pond
well there ain't no flounder in Philly or anywhere else as far as i am concerned
whilst i have been more than twice burned
and methinks the the fishing really stinks
while their constituents constitute a confusing array of idiots who idealize con-artists
men and women who treat candidates like they are Hollywood stars
well if you ask me Jennifer Anniston would make a pretty good prez
says me
she's got the curves for congress, the sexiness for the senate
and tempting t*ts that would make her perfect for a titular head of state
now, have i stated my case to your satisfaction?
so you can stand in line to vote for one of these assh*les
alas as for me i'd rather vote for Jennifer or someone of her kind
i'm sick of your Clintons, Bushes and Bobby Doles
and take this for the Gospel as preached by the undersigned
(c) 2012....PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
If it aint broke don’t fix it,
A well known old saw
Which these modern days
They just seem to ignore.
Does the Designer ever use
The things they design
Or is it just a case of disrupting
So many lives like mine?
That new housing developed
At such a huge public cost
With a daft way of street numbering
Even the Postman gets lost.
The streets are so mixed up
There’s no idea where you are,
With communal parking lots so
Its very easy to lose a car.
The rooms are so small
You can’t swing a cat.
The Designer won an award
For designing stuff like that.
It’s full of young families
And young gangs hold sway
For they didn’t provide areas
For the children to play
.
There are greened areas
Making me wince as I pass
At the many signs saying
No Ball Games On The Grass.
Perhaps, just a thought,
They’d take a little more care
If, fora year at least,
They had to live there.
But the one i really want to meet
In a back alley there on their own
The one who devised the Automated
Machine that answers the telephone.
The music is appaling but
What i really despsie and hate
Being told my call is important
As i waint and wait and wait.
Why cant they beggar off
And just leave things alone
If they want to disrupt lives
Let it be just their own.
Perhaps there’ll come a day,
As their transgressions mount,
That people will protest
And bring them to account.,
If downriver a conscience sliver should make me wonder
Why in the face of challenges I should blunder
Fearing to thrive into a hope giver, preferring to pull asunder
Pangs of conscience, veering away from sticking out my neck
In case guilt should on my churlish cheek plant a peck
To denounce my façade and pronounce my person a fake protagonist, a wreck
Filled to the brim with shame
That in mundane fora I should lay claim
To an iota of virtue to redeem the name
Sunk into disrepute
As injustice and unfairness I couldn’t dispute
Despite carrying considerable clout with the ill repute
In ivory towers
Where iniquities devoured hours
Hobnobbing with gluttons who withered flowers
Decimating probity from petals of love
Whose hues and fragrance scintillated on wings of a white dove
Which couldn’t accommodate my cowardice to have
Shrunk from the centre of controversy
To the comfort of soapy sports, pleading for mercy
In the face of the moral and mental pleurisy
I felt as shame drove my sanity to the fringe
Where in comfort I could cringe
And die in shame on the binge
Where for a few pieces of silver I sold my soul
Vowing not to rock the status quo boat if I hoped to reach my goal
Wishing I could inscribe my name in gilt letters on a salvation scroll.
Spirit of the night
Spirit of the night soil man
Spirit of the night soil man is awake
Spirit of the night soil man is abroad,
Here, the emerging mystery, more a sinister from a
dungeon,
When twilight sat on sad rooftops,
Lurking eyes, creeping limbs in the damp backyards,
To Loo looking gunt in the gloomy moonlight
Where broiling broths in chamberpots and bedpans are
emptied.
A structure of planks led upstairs
Ushering to crouch in a crouching mode,
Over hot hole on the pedestial,
Displaying buttocks lob over poe
Began the winced and windy screeching sirocco,
Screaming complaining bass and solo guitars,
Can be irksome when catch unawares
Of habitual sacrificial ritual of defecating,
On other hand, when afflicted in fora,
Go gawky limping along all the way
Any convenience found,
Unleashed mixed vortex of dark diarrhoea,
Ascendancy of curl buxom python laid,
Windy circular terra-cotta thin rope
And from top, short brief beef cake grenade drop,
After, some bruisers clean with dry cardboard
Or old newspapers that headline "Hard Times"
All add up sure riches to wealth,
Well soughted out after in heap chest.
Human race, don’t boast on the casualty coast
Frisking, seeking, pricking and nicking the truth
On a continental coast as to your truth you toast
Sending to Coventry the uncouth
Pummeling the truth, belittling the youth
Whose views you deride
As your rollercoaster swings South
In the company of your petty pride
In tow to brandish the interpretation
You vaunt with no iota of shame
At the place of honour you accord to the incantation
You blurt in the claim
You push far above merit
Twisting the truth, alienating allies
Although the truth you fail to inherit
In the realm where lies and flies
Sometimes cohabit
Dancing in tandem with hubris
Cultivated into a horrible habit
Which tends to increase
At sunup, at sunset
When the truth cries
Causing a major upset
As the zone of the truth decries
Sufferings the truth endures
In diverse fora
Where jesters ensure cures
Arrive fast to prevent error and terror
From decimating puritan platforms
Preventing them descending into the farce
That demeans the truth in its multifarious forms
While ascertaining misinterpretation remains sparse.
I don’t need a feed of pomp or a creed of fanfare to progress
Cos my God rains treasure trains
Teeming with blessings and fertile feelings to address the plight and stress
That threaten in tens to smuggle into my serenity pesky pains
I detest as weakness in my knees lurks in the background
Severing thoughts and initiatives I design
With much passion, dedication and diligence to break new ground
Despite hurdles and obstacles to which never will I consign
My future and culture in any era
I traverse to converse with the obverse of the coin
God granted me long before I stepped into any fora
Where by design God orders I join
Kindred souls to advance humankind’s goals
In the pursuit of the suit of fulfillment
Despite my stumbles, brambles, catcalls, walls and falls
As God paves the way clear to ensure the annulment
Hostile tiles and piles suffer
Solstice and malice face
Goodwill and guidance prefer
Wealth and health race
Into my life where God pours blessings
Whether I deserve them or not
As my dedicated white dove sings
Whether the temperature of fate blows cold, tepid or hot.
We use to know
Howt o put thinggs down.
People gowin roundd,
Their lives tied behindt em by a spyne of brown strings.
You know we use to know howter kill cows
Wid the back af wharrever, hacking instrument hong at hande
D blunt end woul send your bovine friend awai
So she will not com back fora longg tyme.
So in that tyme as longe, you took excellent care ov her estaite
The horns and steaks te table ate
While shi's gone, til she returns
When you're old ant your world's all yor young wone learns
An told cow come back an says she, 'thanks'
'I appreciated the efficient dispatch'.
How she gloons to see them, kids completed
Kids that cow-Madame herself haz fedd.
And be it forehead uf god, or the middle of d brow of ya reldest cow,
We use to know
D special spots.
The places fork cortingg, and lovingg, and dyingg
The spot betweeain dose dopey grass-my-eyes,
Staring back at yer in e abattoir
Or th slightly reddedd board in d smokey olt barn.
And yu knew
That if you 'it that spot juss righ
D eyes die inside, no feel, no figh,
Wonn touch, noi much,
An owt went the lights.
Os portões da mudança só podem ser abertos de dentro para fora.
The gates of change can only be opened from the inside out.
I went inside of what they call a heart.
The dull twilight was covering the jail,
The labyrinth of corridors for dwarfs..
I had to bend my back to pass tunnel.
I saw the hall all stuffed with machines
With walls so stained with not drying blood
That hardly could reflect the external screams.
Just sending out an unclear thud.
The cell was tight.. It had all the comfort
Of habit.. Still the door was locked,
The window had grille, view was distorted
All what I saw was looking like bad joke..
The Victim.. - I refused believe in what I saw.. –
.. was free! - Not shackled with a chain,
No irons held him, fancy fetters though
On heavy head supporting horror feigned.
Whomever was ‘creator of the jail
The principle of how to open a door
Was plain and simple such as always they’ll
‘So podem ser abertos d’dento para fora’.