Long Girt Poems

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


The Middle Ground

You have been walking on that ground since you were a child and you still have not examined the broken lines, you have been playing on that field since you start crawling on your knees and still you have not figured out how to mix lemon with honey.

You have been playing on the middle ground since you were three and you should know the turns like ABC. If I bend my back and cross my knees you will receive a letter from me; some mountains are hard to climb but strategy will save you just in time.

I lit a candle and wander around in the dark searching for that spot where I will meet with the lark, it is that little section around the bend where the crucifix meet with the troublesome heavens, and the clouds keeps turning about and the elements in the sky start to run and shout.

The universe with its ultimate proportion finds the exotic rhythm and starts sing, and I stretched my ears beyond the plane to block out the terrible shame and align myself with the ground for that is where the mystery is found.

The stars and the planets are sealed up with the Gods and the Indus Valley lay bear waiting for something dynamic to share; the Bronze Age of civilization is welled up in the northwestern regions of Southern Asia, cruising from corner to corner and from three thousand three hundred BCE to thirteen hundred BCE, they have been baking a giant cake for you and me,.

 The ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamia family have been searching diligently for me they are one of three early civilizations of the Near East and South Asia and they have built an empire out of the diamond and gold and place it in the center of my soul. 

The ancestors have paid the sacrifice a million times and when the time is right you will break through the gate and collect the golden plate.

The center ground keeps moving around and the birds keep flying from town to town, the side bars are easy to slide and a miracle is waiting by your side, study the field once more before you walks through the miracle door.It was built specially for you, just to make your dream come through.

When you are in the middle, they attack you from both sides so girt your waist with extra pride and extend your right and left elbow on both sides to scrape up all the prize. The middle ground is hard to find; the middle ground is where destiny abideS.
Form: Narrative


Avid Bookworms On the Loose

The American Library Association
      implores cognoscenti tubby alert
for impersonators, who
     call themselves Ernie and Bert

     took a page from Sesame Street Playbook
oft times accompanied
     by a Soundcloud of dirt,
boot none other then Pigpen,

     (who worked for Peanuts),
     and pay-dirt, though
     dismissed, cuz he did not exert
true grit, plus more seriously scandalous

     sordid details suppressed kept from press,
     (which scurrilous breach of conduct)
     involved said scallywag
     violating more than flirt

discovered in prurient compromised activity,
     where his skin flute encircled,
     with an ambrosia girt
transgressions possibly affected

     public television station benefactors,
     and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt
locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly 
     to make a profit) sounding proper

     sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes,
     asper faux expected by
     a "FAKE" trumpeting prophet,
     sans motley crue comic
     stripped of more'n
     motion picture PG ratings,

hence future lurid, graphic,
     banal, ampersand
(&) dressing room banter
     muted, disallowed, and banned

so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz,
     (who passed away prior to near canned
aforementioned indiscretion debacle)
     returning amidst fanfare hoopla

     much as possible grand
jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand
diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed
     glory and apple pie order land

ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic
     easy to digest bookworm feed
which unexpectedly, inadvertently,
     and horrifyingly

     brewed ferocious breed
on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm,
     whereat armed guards
     strategically stationed

     at libraries entrances indeed
aware voracious young readers,
     would pay no heed
to any obstacle, and such unstoppable

     ravishing knowledge
     hungry kids did exceed
capacity security details dashed away,
     faster then Clifford
     the big red dog re: oh speed

wagon in toto (oz suppose)
to escape paginated bound woes,
but especially to flee bozos 
not tubby confused with Bezos -
     (the richest cat on planet Earth),
whose cashiered spigot flows
née  gushes without any need to faucet.
Form: Rhyme

Carl Carlson

I was up on deck of the USS Arizona doing the morning chores, 
When another plane came along, so I just passed it by, gores, 
Because they landed at Ford Island all the time, but this time, 
It was strafing me, attacking me repeatedly as I was the prime. 

So I ran forward to get under cover, and I did not get hurt, 
But then another plane came around the same way, girt, 
But again, nobody got hit, so I proceeded to go inside, 
Back to my battle station, when a bomb hit where I did hide. 

It knocked me out, ruptured both lungs, all lights went out, 
And I awoke and picked up where I left off, with no pout, 
Pearl Harbour was rank with warfare, bullets flew all around, 
And I don’t know how long I had laid there, but I was bound. 

I was intent on opening the water-tight door, not allowed, 
In battle conditions to be entered, but I managed proud, 
I made my way to the turret to assist there, and one said, 
“Boy, you’re a good boy Carson,” they just needed me red. 

There was no panic down there or anything, but much water, 
And smoke, and they don’t mix, and then a commander
Told me to come on deck and help, but we were at a loss, 
The ship was beat, and we then had to abandon and toss. 

But just before I did, I ran into a friend, crying and dying, 
Burnt, skin dangling off his body, very openly just hanging, 
So I took his arm, but there was nothing that I could do, 
So he died later, and its bothered me all my life through. 

So they gave the word “abandon ship” and so I stepped off, 
Not knowing how badly I was hurt, so passed out, did turnoff, 
I went down in the water and it was peaceful and nice, 
And then I saw this bright light, but something saved me, ice.

I got back up to the water’s surface, but burning oil, 
Surrounded me in a complete circle, but, no more toil,
The next thing I knew was somebody’s arm on mine, 
Pulling me out the water, and then I knew I’d be fine. 

I made it to Ford Island sick bay but saw another there, 
Whose intestines were in his hands, holding them bare, 
And who said to me “War sure is hell isn’t it, shipmate,” 
So I replied and just got up and walked out, straight. 


Died January 14th 2001

Open Fantasy

Tired, exhausted working 2, 3 sometimes 4 jobs 
 Is what mama had to do to keep a roof over our heads 
Raised by brothers and sisters never seen mothers face 
 Was what i had to go throught on a daily base
To think mama had to do it on her own 
 Why because you were behind bars with a foggie mirrow and a bed 
Given everything you needed clouths, food and more 
 Never had to work to survive behind those silver doors 
You though we lived in paradise but in truth we were on the road to the after life 
 In my eyes the world was nothing but endless darkness 
And my escape was my emotions being spilled on a page that was ment for you
 To believe the girt i recieved from you was a knife plunged into my back
At that moment in time my wolrd came tumbling down
 Shattered into a million peices that will never be found
Can't believe i let my self be fouled into thinking your a fantastic dad
 But in thruth your only a clown 
A joke that's what you are a child stuck in a 50 year old man 
 The mask you've worn for so many years has finally sunck so deep it made you blind
You can't see your choices and mistakes are what make your binds 
 You went so low to take mama's life 
Why because she wanted out of the marriage and you out of her life 
 I remeber the day as though it were yesterday images replaying itself just by your name 
You banging on the door to let you in 
 Saying if we dont today will be are end 
That was the first time i seen big sister so scared 
 Crying and screaming with all her might for help 
That was torture to bear 
 Looking into mama's eyes there was nothing but fear
Not for herself but her children who were there 
 Crying there eyes out and screaming for there mothers help 
To think the man i once called father  the one who gave me life 
 Who told me multiple times he'd always be there is my greatest fear 
Everyday before i walk out the door of my house 
 I close my eyes lift my hands and pray to the lord 
Hoping he'd bring back the gently kind man that i held so dear 
 But iknow in my Mind and in my Heart it's 
    only and Open Fantasy

Avid Bookworms On the Loose

The American Library Association
      implores cognoscenti tubby alert
impersonators, who
     call themselves Ernie and Bert

     took a page from Sesame Street Playbook
oft times accompanied
     by a Soundcloud of dirt,
boot none other then Pigpen,

     (who worked for Peanuts),
     and pay-dirt, though
     dismissed, cuz he did not exert
true grit, plus more seriously scandalous

     sordid details suppressed kept from press,
     (which scurrilous breach of conduct
     involved said scallywag
     violating more than flirt

discovered in prurient compromised activity,
     where his skin flute encircled,
     with an ambrosia girt
transgressions possibly affected

     public television station benefactors,
     and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt
locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly 
     to make a profit sounding proper

     sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes,
     asper faux expected by
     a "FAKE" trumping prophet,
     sans motley crue comic
     stripped of more'n
     motion picture PG ratings,

hence future lurid, graphic,
     banal, ampersand
(&) dressing room banter
     muted, disallowed, and banned

so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz,
     (who passed away prior to near canned
aforementioned indiscretion debacle)
     returning amidst fanfare hoopla

     much as possible grand
jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand
diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed
     glory and apple pie order land

ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic
     easy to digest bookworm feed
which unexpectedly, inadvertently,
     and horrifyingly

     brewed ferocious breed
on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm,
     whereat armed guards
     strategically stationed

     at libraries entrances indeed
aware voracious young readers,
     would pay no heed
to any obstacle, and such unstoppable

     ravishing knowledge
     hungry kids did exceed
capacity security details dashed away,
     faster then Clifford
     the big red dog speed!


Relief Courtesy Dreaded Re: Inspection Not Revisited Until May 2022

Relief courtesy dreaded (re:) inspection not revisited until May 2022

Anticipatory anxiety put on high alert
when the warden gave less than a week
courtesy spluttering tone of voice
she did angrily blurt
nsync with her usual persona
being wickedly curt
treating us (myself and missus) like dirt
gloating in our writhing adversity

poor, sharecroppers, no matter yours truly indigent
no matter exhaustive effort I do exert
to secure living income/wage, thus flirt
with visions of illusions grandeur
analogous to taut pulled belt girt
tightly around psyche whereby temple hurt
with unbearable agony
rendering these lovely bones inert.

Grosse and Quade Management
at 2 Highland Manor Apartments
with Jackie Geiger at the helm
finds yours truly afflicted with weak
praise, cuz she left us
(meself and the missus)
in figurative darkness,

whereby I electronically bellow and shriek
silently critiquing as if writing op/ed
for Time magazine and/or defunct Newsweek
perhaps under heading summarizing healthweek,
which hypothetical issue possibly considered
virtual collector's item
and subsequently unreal antique.

Nevertheless said rich daddy's princess
forewarned yours truly and spouse
dated June 24th, 2021,
quoted verbatim as follows:

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Harris
Due to your recent annual inspection,
we will be re-inspecting
your apartment on Tuesday, June 29th
from 11am-4pm.
We will be conducting
the inspection to ensure
you are making progress
cleaning your apartment,
especially your kitchen and bathroom areas.
We also want to keep up
with eliminating your fruit fly issue
in your apartment.

The above date came and went
(as did two other recently lapsed dates),
we never got notified
approximately five year tenant
logically concluded - and anger pent
up inside furious enough
methinks gross analogy when
twenty eight National Guardsmen
fired their weapons at a group
of anti-war demonstrators at Kent
State On May 4, 1970,
now mine poem attains completion extent.
Form: Rhyme

The Stretch of Land

Here they are standing aloof on the backside of town
Here they are sitting on the bare, stricken ground
with strange smells filtering all around.

Smells that fill the atmosphere with an awful stench.
disgusting smells, horrible smells coalesce with
burning incense and perfume to conceal the terrible odor.

Here they are with their self made army
sipping  a bottle of dry whiskey
weapon in hand trousers girt tight
ready and waiting to fight.

This night the north wind blows furiously through villages and
towns, tearing down barricade, overturning powerful trees
sending derbies flying as far as six feet in the air.
They stood and watch from a mutual spot
occasionally running for cover each time
the wind gets close to their border.

They waited anxiously for this night to cease but
the turbulence agitated them and kept them on their feet.
I saw them pacing back and forth unable to bare the
cold that penetrated their intoxicated soul.

Amidst the raging wind I obtained comfort from within,
I located a quite place in a hole where I could sing,
and hide away from the infuriated and vicious wind.
I meander away quietly in a deep sleep and later
appeared on an extensive stretch of fertile land.

There I was walking peacefully on this vast land
an immense land filled with mango trees
trees whose branches were laden with different species of mangos.
Among them were mango trees that were filled with blossom.
The blooming trees smiled at me with intense glory.

Green mangos of contrasting shapes and sizes hang humbly
from the encumbered branches creating a tranquil atmosphere.
I walked around composedly and admired their awesome beauty
and absorb the magnificent scenery that filtered beyond the land.
I faded slowly into day break and plunged into a harmonious atmosphere.


                                                                            ©2014 Christine Phillips

Premium Member The Promised Rest ( Part 1 )

( Hebrews 4:11 )

They say free man,
Aren’t you dreaming,
When I reveal,
My soul’s request,
For it’s rest,

They say in this present life,
There is only trouble and strife,
There is no narrow way,
For if even I can’t find it,
No never mind it!
But I know where to find it,
For Christ signed it,

The narrow way,
Is not for those who play,
I say, 
So find it you may,
For it is children who play,
Their earthly life away,

Be you a child in malice,
Build heaven’s palace,
And you will not grow a callous,
Over the opening,
Of your fallopian,
Of the narrow way,
Of the truth , the spirit does say,

For heaven is built of love’s truth,
So don’t remain aloof,
Outside love’s booth!
But be you of mature mind,
That you may understand,
God’s plan,
Enter into truth the promised land,

A prudent man,
Will understand,
Now ,it was not signed or designed,
By a carnal mind,
For a carnal mind to find,

There is a booth,
That leads by the truth,
Through a narrow gate,
Into a higher state,
Of higher fate,
That is why it’s so hard to fine,
By a carnal mind!
Love’s booth of truth,
Is not a goof,

It is your sacred start,
From your sacred heart,
The wife of the soul,
Who has the mold,
Of love’s truth,
The narrow way,
You should find some day,
If your strife , you will give away,

The narrow way,
Is not a place, that you should play,
In a natural way,
Not something the mind would say,
In it’s strife of play,
However you may find,
But the mind must re aline,
With love’s kind,
While there is still time,

Being in the new earth,
In itself, is not the total rebirth,
For the truth you must still girth,
Your stand, within promise land,
Must still be the man,
Within God’s plan,

Having loins girt about with truth,
Able to stand in truth’s booth,
Waist girt about with love’s truth!

5-9-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member DELIVER ME

So deep in sin, I turned away
The skies above were darkest Grey
Then I repent on bended knee
And Jesus Christ delivered me

A rainbow shone, the clouds rolled back
He set my feet on the right track
I'll forgive for he forgave me
And Jesus Christ delivered me

Then, lo, one day again I fell 
An open door to evil hell
Truth of this He made me to see
And Jesus Christ delivered me

Don't get comfortable with sin
You are welcoming devils in
Obeying Thy God gives you a key
And Jesus can deliver thee

Salvation from death we obtain 
But open doors let in the rain
So, light of God you cannot see
But Jesus can deliver thee 

All power and strength, there's no shame
When you cry out in Jesus name
Resist the devil, he must flee
Jesus, the Lord delivers me

Ephesians six will document
The armor of God, it's intent
Wear it for the whole world to see
How Jesus can deliver thee

The helmet of His salvation
The first step in this race we run
Protection from Satan's deceit 
Yes Jesus will deliver thee

When all my sins I do confess
I'm covered in his righteousness
Sinless Christ nailed them to the tree
None but He could deliver me

No shin guards, flexibility 
So we can pray on bended knee
Humble ourselves unto the King
The King of Kings deliver thee

A hunger for the word of God
With the gospel my feet are shod
I'll be prepared to preach God's peace 
So Jesus can deliver thee

With truth My loins are girt about
All life flows from the river's mouth
The truth will set me free indeed
And Jesus Christ delivered me

Take up the shield of ancient faith
Trust in the promises God saith
Satan's darts of fire miss me
Each time Jesus delivers me

The Bible is a two edged sword
Father will always keep his word
I draw it shining, from it's sheath 
This Word made flesh deliver thee
Form: Kyrielle

The Weeping Drum

Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Ta pime yaah ta pimi yaah bam
Tears drip from the face of the weeping drum. 
The drum the drum the drum
Screaming and shouting
Crackling and rackling 
Dispelling a mighty woeful sound.  
Ica mama ica mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Thousand of them pouring in the street 
Following the sorrowful and painful drum beat
amba picka  amba picka  amaba  pika bam
Girt up your waist and run
Ban your belly and come
Weeping and wailing flooding the street
Mournful singers and dancers entertaining in grief
While traditional women light thousand of candles
To feed the souls and expel the dark forces of the devil.
Ah namba ramba tata ramba tata  bam
Emotions run high, increasing tension in the sky 
Filling hearts with burden too heavy to bear 
Causing them to rent their garment in despair.
lingo bam bam lingo bam
bam lingo bam bam lingo bam
The sound grew louder and louder
Waking everyone out of their agonizing slumber
And forcing them to congregate in village, cities and towns.
They beat the drums all night, and marched around the city wall
Blowing horns, chanting despondent words that it might fall.
Beat the drum brother man 
Round up the youths to join the band
Sound the drum a little louder 
March into the devils territory
And trample Lucifer under your feet.
Beat the drum brother man
Beat the drum and sing a victory song
Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Beat the drums brother man
Beat the drum for Mr. Steve and drag him into the circle
Ica mama ica, mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Expel the tormenting spirit of that relentless destructive devil.
Rata tata rata tata bam.
                                                            
                                                                      ©2014 Christine Phillips

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