Long Foreclose Poems

Long Foreclose Poems. Below are the most popular long Foreclose by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foreclose poems by poem length and keyword.


Expiration

EXPIRATION :
Existence of certainties and uncertainties, 
Governed by disclosed and undisclosed warrantees,
The story is actually a mystery. 
Promises become unfulfilled, 
And the expectants turn to wail. 
If we choose to talk about that,
Nothing would be considered by heart.
It's still the same old tale without doubt,
Of which men of ages didn't understand. 
We've heard of it more and more,
And we've felt its sharp pain before.
It's bounded by no law,
Thusly, appears anytime it wants.
Many a time we try to foreclose it,
By setting walls against its exhibits.

But we end up at the same junction,
Whereby it present itself as an injunction.
And we only mark it with a memory,
For it can't be forever discarded by money.
In fact, it can be avoided by nothing,
As it truly remains inevitable.
Its visitation is unpredictable.
How we wish we would overcome it,
But freely does it shows itself in a flit;
Causing a precious life to cease and efface.
That's when the soul goes to an unspecified place,
And the soma also returns to its origin.
Then ammased earthly treasures become futile.
Absolutely, we're all standing aghast,
As one day we all would breathe our last.


Trick Or Treating

(This is a fictional poem)

Years ago on Halloween I wanted to wear costumes that were scary.
But my parents always made me go as the tooth fairy.
People laughed at me all over town.
It took years for me to live it down.
It was something that I always hated.
When I was a teenager, I never dated.
When I asked girls out, they always laughed.
Now all of these people are feeling my wrath.
I make them sorry that they made fun of me.
I bought the bank and I foreclose on their property.
They say I'm mean but I say Tough.
I tell them to start packing their stuff.
People have learned that laughing at me isn't a good thing to do.
If you laugh at me, I'll foreclose on you.
Form:

Pond Heard Waldon Depth of Despair

No particular rhyme nor,
reason explains to boot
within mind of this (boyish
looking) ole coot,
why sudden flashback didst

kickstart metered metrical foot
when during bout with anorexia nervosa,
I did not give a hoot
analogously harried and swiftly kicked
with barebones styled tailored jackboot.

Said eating disorder, sans
self starvation arose
without explicit explanation
this grown man tries
till he gets himself bluenose

to recapitulate an ill fate,
he conveniently chose
still baffled, thus
without aversion disclose,
silence of echoes

confidential matter
I willingly expose,
said trauma that
nearly did foreclose
emotionally mortgaged corporeal property

boarded figurative 
windows, whereat up goes
for sale sign testament to
recalcitrant stalwart hardnose
father and mother felt

obligation to interpose
lest premature demise,
would invariably juxtapose
dealing mortal psychological
(albeit unfair) blow

to parents plus two sisterly kiddoses
perhaps family pets (cats and dogs),
whose meows and lows
punctuating equilibrium
volunteering, (when suicide

gripped stranglehold)
spurring personal tragedy
with sincere manifestoes
(mainly not a verse
to dabble with poetry)

striving to cater to nonheroes
to thwart tragedy, whose nose
(mine) sniffs fallout mainly upon me
woebegotten life somber
(time to cue oboes),

asper the plethora of
influences that predispose
one in the throes
of adolescent experiencing
oh ma dog...gushing hormones
analogous to young lives
loose then taut like mama's yoyos!
Form: Imagism

Bloody gifts of resurrection

In midnight gazes call me sullen upon my cheek
Rousing replies risen bound by chains 
Lest mercy be tallowed by all frays 
Lest my cheek rise by an untimely hour
Rid my face of discoloured honour
Until it shall stalk by the wretched wicker sun's rays
O wither upon the wicker's sun dropped desire
Feign, o swell upon the imperious bells
Dear wicker, o ire, shalt rain upon the sinner's drencht trap
Leave mellow cleaves upon a skull's prondered fallows
O wicker, dear wicker, fall'n be the strife within my own trial 
Ris'n upon a mellow moon's impassive scamp
A whore within such heavenly light, where'n quarry shalt seek a seeming clamp
Fought a feign, O swallow, O blossom by my might
Shalt the wicker sun swoon upon my sorrows?
O life, upon a liver, foreclose a killer
For soon i shall take upon flight
Until the sun's swollen wicker shall take upon the morrow
Shall anguish thrive upon a famisht howl
Come without breaks, nor bend
I shall steal upon the wicker's whelms
Towards the sways, o sorrow shall bend
Belier my helm, 'til all else shall fall hither
'Til I hear the moon call upon the wicker,
And I shall fly.

Premium Member Fool's Gold

     Fool's Gold


     We cherish Autumn days when Summer goes...
         her landscapes of bright colors do amaze.
               Just like a painting, brilliant hues foreclose
     the thoughts of Winter gloom post Autumn blaze.

     Deep rusty red, orange, but mostly gold
          stretch wide for miles along the country lanes;
               'neath deep blue sky and sunny rays, they hold
     the joy of life we hope and pray remains.

     Leaves gently fall and coat the waiting ground
          to warm the earth with their bright colored shawl;
               and happily, we grasp these days renowned
     to keep us joyful before Winter pall.

     But as all things in life follow a scheme,
          a dimmer time will shade a golden one;
               this season, in the end, does lose its gleam...
     fool's gold of Fall turns dull 'neath Winter sun.


     Sandra M. Haight

     ~1st Place~
     Contest: Autumn Colors
     Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
     Judged: 01/09/2018


Premium Member Autumn Royal

Autumn Royal

We cherish Autumn's gift when Summer goes;
its fire of red and ginger scenes amaze.
The beauty of those brilliant hues foreclose
the thoughts of Winter gloom post Autumn's blaze.
Rich amber, cinnamon, and pumpkin haze
stretch wide for miles along the country lanes;
a lovely glow we hope and pray remains.

Yet soon, leaves fall and spread the waiting ground
with Fall's bright orange-saffron-umber shawl.
Still happily, we hold these days renowned
to keep us pleased before cold Winter's call
bedims the glow with its first snow-filled squall.
But, as all things in life maintain a scheme,
the crimson days of Fall must lose their gleam.


Sandra M. Haight

~First Place~
Premier Contest: Autumn Royal
Sponsor: Dale Gregory Cozart
Judged: 10/05/2017

Required Words:  Amber Cinnamon Crimson Fire Ginger Pumpkin Saffron Umber

Premium Member All I Need

Little I ask, my wants are few,
I only wish a roof and home -
a simple one this man will do
   that I may call my own.
To within its walls live and age
with a memoir to fill my page.

Plain fare is all I need for me,
a ration a day to hearty fill,
and oft to satisfy a thirsty plea
   water my dry lips to spill.
And so granted if I should ask
a cold stubbie or whisky flask.

I care not for gold and land,
nor chattel or title to obey -
just a mortgage and at hand
   money enough to pay.
I only this need ask and pose
lest the bank on me foreclose.

My clothes I do proudly wear,
no robes of bejewelled ties,
for king ‘n yeoman are I swear
   equal all in God’s eyes!
Nay, I am not of that noble ilk
and need no garments of silk.

I do not seek what I need not
like a rich man’s cars or toys -
my contentment is with my lot
   and in life’s simple joys.
A humble man beholden for
if this world favour me more.

Truly not I begrudge no man
his Hope, his Fate, his Love -
I seek truths none more than
   the word of God above!
And to behold if it is His will
His grace in life to death until.


     Written: May 2018


  With special thanks to 
  Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Total Random Wisdom

If I'm naked
 how can you pick my pockets 
And if I'm homeless 
how can you foreclose on my mortgage

If I'm going bald
what why should I go to a barber
If I'm sick why would I sign a work release

You so crazy something wrong with you

If I Cry why do I need glasses
If I die bury me in the desert
I'm mortified
I'm strictly Pride
I am driven by division
I'm subtraction not addition
And if you believe all this
And if this is how you sign
Mankind are you crazy laws
Subjugated subjected filled with flaws
I appeal to you all
Token random wisdom
Above and beneath it all
Settlement Trust
Token random wisdom
random wisdom taken
Token random wisdom 


9/5/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr

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