Long Forgoes Poems
Long Forgoes Poems. Below are the most popular long Forgoes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forgoes poems by poem length and keyword.
O - Olive that was her first name
O - Oli, eloi, bloss her other names
O - Overall, any of these is acceptable
O - Only she prefers most her one name
L - Life come upon her by 13th of August
L - Living with her grandparents first
L - Learning she always want to pursue
L - Ladder of life she jolly began to do
I - Interested to music, books and stories
I - Indefinite reading even old histories
I - In the kitchen, She loves cooking
I - In anywhere, She is there singing
V - Victor she always strives to be
V - Vices and violence against is she
V - Vivaciously aiming to live life fullest
V - Vigorously stepping to life's hurdles
E - Each one she shares a smile
E - Even though she feels bad inside
E - Endearing, she was always told
E - Eager to explore things untold
E - Essence of a woman, she beholds
E - Extremes she tries to balance and hold
E - Even if skin and beauty folds
E - Embroidered life by God, she is called
L - Looking to be channel of blessing
L - Listening before understanding
L - Loaded not with a good tall
L - Limitless to achieve a goal
O - Onwards she always go
O - On sides and on back she forgoes
O - Opting not to forget all good
O - Omitting not of gratitude
I - In God, she always trusts
I - In real love, she believes
I - In singing and writings, she frees
I - Into her family, she spree
S - Small girl she may seem
S - Smartness, she projects not hid
S - Sweats she doesn't care to pour
S - Sincere heart that she devours
A - Adoring God, forever she will
A - Acceleration she will deal
A - Antidote to her woos is love
A - Above all is her one living God...
(c)olive_eloisa
10:57 am
March 24, 2014
The Wild Horse
He who seeks only control
becomes drunk
on the clouded waters,
drawn from the wells of will.
And his heart,
remains the size of a thimble.
He is the flamboyant fool in the velvet coat,
whose starched collar
chaffes the wrinkles at his throat.
He grips an ancient map
charted by ancient men,
plotting a dark dead land,
where he has heard his own castle awaits him.
And so filled is he with his own assurity,
so intent on his own success;
that he straddles the wild horse.
The very essence of life itself.
He wears razor spurs at his heels,
and he is not regretful at using them.
He believes it is permissible
to inflict pain upon the flesh,
if it should make him lord
over what cannot be tamed and
should never be reined.
But long before his journey's end,
his life force is expended.
And as he tires,
he spits harsh words and curses
at the same magnificent animal
that serves to bear his weight.
In his path,
boulders fall and break,
to slow his way, make him think again.
But he forgoes the warnings.
Lush pastures he passes,
where the wild horse longs to
explore or graze.
But he ignores them.
Instead, he forces his way
through the sacred trails,
long ago reclaimed by the pixies.
And then;
just as he eyes
the distant grey fort that he has longed for
upon the cliffs of his ambition,
he is tossed and bucked
and flung into a bush of thistles.
And there he lies,
broken and bruised,
all fancies forgotten.
Left only to his pleading and weeping
for the very life itself
that he attempted to
squash into submission.
Pippa gray 2018.
Nascent thought provoking
threads flit to and fro
unseen solitary pinball wizard
cavalierly fiddles indiscriminately
leveraging outcome
silently holistic thought fragments
strewn staccoto scattershot
attenuated blitzkrieg
brain storm saturates,
par for course sandtrap engulfs,
chaos reverberates within
besieged cerebral corridor,
quotidian mental onslaught
spurns refugee exodus,
psychological ploy asper viable coping
function forgoes figurative
foothold toe tully forfeited
tenuous grasp slips forcing migration,
Sans psychotic shrapnel
clefts emotional well being,
without rhyme or reason
sense and sensibility rent asunder
rational, overall logical
modus operandi quashed
dealt fatal savage thrust
soundless insanity relentlessly pounds
fifty plus shades gray matter
noiselessly bombarding
lofty craft cognitive faculty atelier
strafed emotional rescue
relegated to twilight zone
outer limits house barbed bereft ken
dolled, hallowed, and lobotomized
mined kempf desecrated sacred reliquary
orbits like a neurological asteroid belt
Self healing fragments repelled
despite fervent application grounded
evincing proof of positive thinking
courtesy Norman Vincent Peale
fore gone conclusion crowning
accursed albatross gussied as SPD
(schizoid personality disorder)
undefeated champ decamping forever
within noggin of this mortal male
til death do me part!
My fair raven haired maiden,
Parting from you causes me such longing.
Many are the thoughts with which my mind is laden.
Of us, hand in hand, in our place of belonging.
Of us, eye to eye, our days prolonging.
Our course through life, together we would chart,
And while I'm with you or departing...
I'm thinking of you with all of my heart.
How I wish that the sun would never set,
That our time with each other would never end.
But time we cherish due to nights onset.
Due to ends and beginnings can our love ascend,
It begin again, only as time does descend.
While I dread nights onset and our time apart,
I need you to know, my fair godsend...
I'm thinking of you with all of my heart.
While we are without one another,
This lonely time too, will come to a close.
I look forward to our time together.
To look into your eyes divine and repose
In arms of mine, your hands and mine enclose
Each other, wanting no other, dreading to depart.
And while we wait, I hope your heart knows...
I'm thinking of you with all of my heart.
My fair maiden, while my heart forgoes,
For now, your presence. I hope God will impart
His blessing upon us. Till we meet, I expose...
I'm thinking of you with all of my heart.
A happy little girl. Bright colors and sunshine. She grows older and enters middle
school. She is teased constantly. Not the right hair. Not the right clothes. It hurts,
oh God it hurts. She forgoes colors. Black and gray are good enough. She gets older
and older still. High school; a new place, new adventure. Dare she hope...new
friends? Foolish, foolish girl. New friends? New enemies...new pain. Dyed hair...what
color? Black. Black hair, black clothes...black heart. Poetry, music, the only escape.
Dark, Pain, Despair...Destroyed. Heart bleeding and inside she's screaming. but no
one sees. No one hears. Alone...so alone. Who would understand? No one. Dying
inside. Drowning in pain bottled up. Invisible. Misunderstood. Who is she? Who is
she!?! Screaming, bleeding, dying. What a waste. That's what she is, a waste of
space, a waste of breath. Better off without her. The world's better off. Despised,
Destroyed...Death.
My top ten will always be my fingers and toes.
One more makes eleven if you’re counting my hose.
Oops, was that a Freudian typo, I meant my nose.
Without my top ten, couldn’t walk or flick off, if I chose,
let alone spray water on my favorite red rose.
Perhaps I could think of more if I juxtapose.
But then the numbers would inflate when my list grows.
I’m trying my best to enumerate with prose,
getting back to the theme before my mind forgoes.
Maybe I’ll set it right after I repose,
easier to see when I’m not wearing much clothes.
Too late, said I, as I continue struggling to compose.
I feel like a lawyer who is about to depose.
Glad I’m not a doctor known to misdiagnose.
Now that you have read this, I’ve something to propose.
The run around I gave you had nothing to disclose,
cept maybe wishing it was in polyphonic prose!
*For the “Top Ten Contest.” Joe, surely I jest!
We claim to love
but foolish pride swallows apologies
wrecks reconciliation and forgoes forgiveness
rendering sweetness bitter
it is an emotional hoarder
an insatiable sin
incessantly collecting resentment
commoditizing the priceless
bankrupting unity and burning optimism to ashes
it is an assassin’s bullet shattering the windows to the soul
it is a death kiss
pernicious and ubiquitous
convinced of its infallibility and yet
the ego is a manifold deception
a blindfold masquerading an x-ray
high octane recklessness eviscerating progress
it is arrogance mimicking affirmation
lending mystery to the vacuous
self-centered gibberish
rippling into infinity
and stripping love of its gist
it is delusions of grandeur
parading naked through town square
and fooling the fool alone
Spring Appearance
As daylight hours increase, and Winter forgoes:
The sun’s heat to release meltwater from the snow
Raising the lake until balance is established,
By output of water rushing to sea level.
Spring’s appearance stimulates reproduction,
Of survival and progeny continuation.
That boasts life’s colourful individuality,
As warmth engulfs perception of vitality.
Now is the time before the leaves appear,
To tap the Birch for its sap, sweet and clear
Of the fall conversion which assists to prevent,
Trees from freezing and deprivation of nutrients.
Soon to follow as the soil thaws and forest greens,
Morel pores sprouting beside decayed fallen trees.
And in the freshness of season sleepers awake to bloom,
While animals forage for new growth, to consume.
Erroneous mirror scatters his face
Mills his skin into thin porous powder
Muck which gets stuck under tongue in a paste
Mouth stuffed with rubble cement rancid sour
Embalmed motorbike tennage champion
Mist cobwebs in his chest, windless clothesline
Murdered dreams dumped, tight vertibre cramp them
Measure of failure in winnings' decline
Engine never to rev segments ego
Mourning whip lashes languish in his lungs
Molten moon drips millions he forgoes
Mortality unknown among airborne young
Moonbeam diamonds stall, star status dements
Ebb of ignition rides midnight lament
Sixteen year old Hero, Matty
Fair was she, whose nature’s proudest beauty
Of irises brown, and hair darkest hue
Winter soon wilt, reckless what bare eyes see
Dare look at her, with love slowly brewed
A need be called forgoes a need too dwells
My voice, my visions and my leisure fold
Below thy chin, summer’s gentlest did well
Breathe me grape wine sweetest of ages gold
That fairness fallen dawn casts on her breasts
On unmoved ground, o’er aether brightly shines
She lies still, while pedals dance on her dress
Body autumn entangled in pale vines
As if beauty would flee in false manner
Then it should be given a fate sweeter