Long Gifted Poems
Long Gifted Poems. Below are the most popular long Gifted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gifted poems by poem length and keyword.
( #MEEK )
M - My confidence level is neutral in this dilemma I’m in and pride or arrogance or narcissism isn’t in my stride one bit one way or another — thanks for asking (or not LMFAO) — or abiding by my side, basking in a colliding, chaotic commotion…sorry, Father of fantabulous fearlessness, if I am ever doubtful, fearful, uncertain, confusing poetically or bitter emotionally…I must be meek and not think highly of me foolishly
E - Extremely gifted and skillful child I am (however, according to some others, but most importantly) in God’s eyes; additionally, handsome hurts in my skin (cuz God has given me the good books instead of looks and a rather chubby-skinny body tremendously but more to love I guess LOL)…cuz I’m far from flawless in the outside, but I’m a fruit of fervent faith on the inside…go into my shoes of unique Adrenalin…endure eternally and persistence is key (or lack thereof), oh you so-called empathetic human being…I beg to differ actually TBH…SMH…
E - End endless #haters and begin unconditional #lovers, oh Lord of Accord — that, I can’t deny with a sensitive mind and heart…nor His loving Truth I can’t hide…my compassionate spirits of solace hasn’t dried or hasn’t been torn apart…nor am I living a remarkably substantial lie anymore
K - Kid’s karaoke kite, kayaking the rivers of my soul and my spirit of lows and highs is up there in the air till this day or night or whatever the hell it is (I don’t mind at all honestly…hiking this hill of legendary, heroic, benevolent, noble and honorable bliss)…….(God has heard me completely in my ardent prayers and I will eventually stand tall)…humility, modesty and meekness is far better than despair from within (and clouding my catastrophic captivity of envy in the process of it all) that has died forevermore — give God a call and ask and you will receive and weave radiant, resonating remedies of relief from grief…I must still love my enemies and neighbors to the core…although I cussed them out a trillion times already mentally…kindhearted clearly all the more regardless, though change is a challenging chore — chaos ceases and strife is sifted out entirely…
at first dawn of the year, I woke up early...
surrounded by zestful creepers on the quaint fence,
and budding plants around,
gazed at the miraculous sunrise in the vast, all-encompassing sky.
I am in awe!
first a red dot in the horizon...
then it grew bigger and bigger,
until the whole sky is enveloped with a mesmerizing burst of divine sunlight.
a luminous incandescent sky filled my heart....with reverence, with
utter wonderment!
this is the surreal moment of realization -
how fortunate we are to be on this majestic earth,
how blessed we are to be gifted with the magical sunlight,
the caressing air, the murmuring stream;
the tall tree branches, the velvety flower petals,
fluttering butterflies, scurrying squirrels.
here is my recluse, here is my oasis!
here I am with my thoughts.
this life has its meanings only when I appreciate with humbleness -
all the blessings showered.
I am not alone, I see you, I feel you.
at daybreak I gaze at millions of blinking, twinkling,
scintillating stars above ....
they are the witnesses of many poignant moments in life -
a shooting star announced -
the world is with me.
sometimes I feel an aching pain in the middle of night...
as if I am searching for something all my life ...
as if I dive down to the bottom of the ocean to find a pearl ...
I want you to hold my hand, I want you to guide me in my quest.
a child’s innocent smile brings the happiest moment in my day...
the neediest of the needy is waiting for my support.
remember my father's final words to me - writing is my blessing ...
with my pen, I can reach the unreachables,
obstacles can not stop creativity,
no one can curb imagination,
It flows like a river, streaming down the mountaintops,
meandering through the pebbles,
but flowing anyway,
arriving at its final destination.
January 8, 2021
For " My Spiritual Journey" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Judged on: 1/10/21
For " Your 2021 N - A Choice 2 " Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
The thought it is when I shut the light,
You besides me cuddling through the night.
This moment of separation has got me thinking tonight,
Without you, O girl, how incomplete am I,
Come soon baby to be by my side..
I long to have a normal day,
Where you wait for me to have dinner the same way..
Days of peace and somewhere in between fights,
I always knew you'll be so right
for things you dream for us to rise;
To foresee the things you're so gifted and wise..
Without you, oh dear..oh love, how incomplete am I;
Come soon baby to be by my side..
It's hard to fill the space within,
I know my love you've been trudging,
Baby I fail to wrap the feelings within;
I wish you here and there's no gap between..
Without you my lady how lost am I,
Come soon baby to be by my side,
Without you my love how incomplete am I..
VijayG
Most of my Lix spittle
+ four additional anniversaries
since exiting birth canal
as full term newborn
re: minimally viable existence
post doc severance umbilical cord,
nevertheless yours truly
found himself figuratively
linkedin and tethered to lifeline
particularly in formative years
(primarily academically) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat
without an ankh (clawing
away to stay afloat)
aimlessly bobbing -
and drowning akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker
sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker
despite being gifted with
an above average thinker,
(who calls Lake Wobegon
his birth place)
from without, where two
brown myopic ocular
orbs shutterfly, twitter and winker.
All thru academia
just barely passing grades
nsync with avocations
such as: jigsaw puzzles,
photography, playing piano
weight lifting with free weights
and other endeavors metaphorically
suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones
into grave state,
courtesy anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
captioned tinker tailor soldier spy
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeed ding somnambulant
zombified condition
with a burning
desire toward pyromania
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning (when libido
ran rampantly amuck)
satyromania, the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when
orbitz around Earth
demarcated ten plus three
month date on a Friday the thirteenth,
hence death be not proud
sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia
after Dayton death.
Especially one courteously wrapped ably
anonymously gifted to
an aspiring gourmet Chef Boyardee
i.e. not surprisingly... revealing mystery
person none other than...
yepper namely me.
Moost anyone can show
off culinary karate chop
suey, whether schooled among
fishy creatures either
from black lagoon,
or privately tutored,
(this haint no canibal)
courtesy mythological Cyclop,
somewhat riotously,
quirkily and precariously,
when blindsided flop
which slapdash loco motion often
misconstrued for latest dance moves
characterizing boogie woogie
(touting Louis Armstrong talents
as token bugle boy), and/or hip hop.
Audible sigh of relief exhaled by
none other than Chaim Yankel,
whose tail feathers ruffled
linkedin to setback, which former
(malfunctioning microwave) did rankle.
No longer must
hungry tummies all told
eat food frozen and/or cold
leftovers formed into Rorschach,
neigh Horseshack habitat mold
more suitable as clay pigeons,
where strong arms
analogous to accordion fold
readied to take aim and fire
young trumpeting Olympian trained
contestants, albeit aghast at
proliferating firearms when polled
wantonly, indiscriminately, and blithely
taking precious innocent lives
worth more than fine spun gold.
Eve vent chilly this monseigneur
and his madam
(Church Lady) conceding faithful
to follow and acquiesce
and countenance flimflam
toward yours truly,
no matter a fake Imam
who offered up feast
Earth friendly biologically/
genetically modified, prepared
artificial intelligent algorithmically
programmed manufactured in Vietnam,
who cooked delectable
Soylent green eggs and ham.
Best not prepare
former entree in microwave
lest they explode instantly
killing home of the brave
necessitating, none other
than one lame rhymester at large
to end poem quickly senseless verse
in order for his hide to save.
Rigorous sphincter ani externus muscle workout
Amidst the rubble strewn landscape ruins
courtesy healthy helping of prunes
linkedin to derrière issuing
melodious flatulence classical tunes,
yours truly renown buttuck blaster,
possesses wide ranging repertoire
ofttimes employed
as poignant powerful score
within battlefield documentaries
trademark trumpeting tush
indistinguishable from authentic
soundcloud moaning mortal wounds.
Far and wide taketh me
courtesy self propulsion vis a vis whoosh,
where roaring madding crowds
come together at behest of agent provocateur
transmits electronic signals
instantaneously triggering flash mob
rearing to experience mine
unusual claim gifted with musical tush
Sphincter ani externus
(External sphincter ani)
a wasteland Tom Sawyer doth rush
away from finishing his hucksterism
to escape (wool ewe believe) sheep push
lambasting of rambunctious herd
echoing within Hindu Kush,
an 800-kilometre-long mountain range
in Central and South Asia
to the west of the Himalayas.
Please pardon cheekiness (mine), but
proctologists (Colorectal surgeons”
the more up-to-date term for same)
quite earnestly astounded, befuddled,
enlightened, flummoxed, intrigued, et cetera
abbreviated etc, a Latin term
which is used in the places
where we want to say
"and other things" or "and so on"
ahem so over the moon
whenever I let (powder milk) biscuits fly i.e.
id est which means “in other words.”
Scientists scrutinizing plumes
of rarified gaseous spewed out me bum
discovered thermal columns of hot air
forced thru flat **** plane of muscular fibers,
elliptical in shape
and intimately adherent to the integument
surrounding the margin of the anus
on average measuring
about eight to ten centimeters
can rise as high as a mile,
which rising air strong enough
to lift all kinds of things
like dust, water vapor,
and broad-winged hawks.
Thermals frequently form
when I scale mountainous peaks
and expel prodigious invisible flatulence
hashtagged as silent but deadly
because the sun
heats mountainsides unevenly!
Thanks to you know who
one can often see cumulus clouds above thermals.
The creed of the gang
Blood in, blood out.
Identity
Attention
Insecurity
Acceptance
Significance
All gifted at the place of blood.
Slash a face
Forget any grace
Stab an enemy
A day in infamy
At the gang’s entrance
A deceiving sentence.
Only way out
Prove you can fight
Kick some butt
Spill more blood
Roll the dice
Pay the price.
The gang demanded the same cost
Blood to spill from His cross
The same blood to bring them in
In exchange for the gang’s sin
Opportunity to be bought out
Of darkness into the light.
The creed of the Godhead
Blood in, blood out.
the creed of gang life is that you have to spill blood to get in, and
the only way out is to spill more blood; even your own by death !.
So they cried out again, “Crucify Him!” Then Pilate said to them,
“Why, what evil has He done?” But they cried out all the more,
“Crucify Him!” So Pilate, wanting to gratify the crowd,
released Barabbas to them; and he delivered Jesus, after he had scourged Him,
to be crucified. (Mark 15:13-15 NKJV)…blood bought us into His Kingdom,
and takes us out of “the gang” !.
We Look For Holy Moments,
And In Looking, Overlook
Moments Blessed And
Filled With Things
From Mountains We Once Shook.
Small Events Unfolding,
Each One Smaller, Briefer Still.
As Cavernous Creases
We Call Brains,
Migrations Fill.
Spark-lit Seconds
Speak For Us
While Destiny Darkens Past.
Pointing And Branched
With Lightning Flare
To Futures Guided, Where
We May Draw Away
Or Follow Our Natural Inclination
Through Your Waveless Spray.
Shotgunning Every Now
Somehow;
To Cast
Bigger Pictures,
Brighter Futures,
Holy Moments Blended,
Bending To Form
Crooked Sutures.
Aye,
Care Not Weary One
Traveler And Father To All.
Mind’s Eye Behemoth,
Where In Grains
As In Pearls
Do You Lie;
Barbaric And Windswept,
Dressed
In White Collared Time,
Grafted And Stylized;
With
Only Your
Teacups Remaining.
Your Grin, No Repast,
Discomforts All.
Bears The Stain,
Of The Holy Moments Gain.
Slanted Slivers
Of Hanging Pictures,
A Youth With Glasses Scanning
Hills Of Gifted Summer’s Passion,
Pages Each In Need Of Fanning.
Now,
With Hallowed And Bellowed Tear,
You Will Steer
Amongst Those Mighty
Many Memories
Of Futures Past.
This You Give Us,
Single Sight.
The Now Of Every Thought To Last:
A Day That Ends In Night
As we slept, in the depths of winter
in the dead of the night,
cold temperatures and icy wind
moved in with howling sounds.
Piling up snow drifts over the ground,
we wake up at dawn to a magically gifted playground
of a sparkling crystalline carpet of snow.
Taking away the sun's warm glow
silver icicles hung bonded to the peaked
shingle roofs as dripping water froze.
Dressing warmly, running outside to play
delicate feathery ice flakes,
dusting our faces, making our cheeks rosy red.
Snow spades are dug out of the shed
to clear driveways and sidewalks.
Pushing and shoveling,
spreading the snow aside.
Chattering teeth, tingling fingertips,
feeling the bite of cold—
it is time to go in.
The warm fireplace draws us near its charm.
Around its cozy, gold ember crackling fire,
away from the cold
It's a welcoming bathing warmth of comfort.
Snow is calling,
"Come and chase my snowflakes around,
or turn me into a snowman,
or ride that thrill on the sled down the snowy hill."
We bundle up and run outside to have some fun.
Even snow angels join in the fun.
We would love to be out all day,
but the sun is running out.
Time to put aside the chores and fun.
Our spirits need to slumber.
To do it all again tomorrow.
12/1/2016
If I wasn't there,
the rain swollen clouds
would have still dumped
their dark weight over the bay
and through a gaping tear,
let down a curtain of sunlight
to start the day.
And if I wasn't there,
the old, arthritic labrador
would have still waddled
along the street
with its bent but steady gait,
undistracted, self absorbed
and fixed in its own stare
that allowed no deviation
from years of devoted plod.
The morning had no need
for me, what happened
would have happened anyway.
There's an annoying sadness
in knowing the earth
doesn't seem to care
if things pass unnoticed.
Sunsets and waterfalls
carry no favor.
To it, the achingly beautiful
and the catastrophic can
happily go unreported.
And yet I still ask -
what's the point -
and entertain the notion
that the universe has this
innate and unfathomable need
for a witness
to take in Creations
unfolding riddle
and make it fit together.
I could be wrong,
but for each of us,
the privilege of being here
on this gifted earth,
to understand, care for
and tell its story in song
fulfills a purpose,
if only to this end -
or something more.