Long Give it a rest Poems
Long Give it a rest Poems. Below are the most popular long Give it a rest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Give it a rest poems by poem length and keyword.
Jeeze You've Reached Your Limit
Jeeze
You've reached your limit
Quit your insane bellyaching!
Before you explode
~
You can't spring a swing
Not unless you're in a ring
When you fling your fist
Like Muhammad Ali's hissed
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee”
~
They'll tell you to bring it on and you'll miss
Put you in a bear hug if you persist
Give you a big kiss
And go away laughing and singing their heads off
~
Be a smart cookie
Stop being crazy and
Give it a rest
Float away like a butterfly
Let the bees make their honey
So they won't give you a sting
By: Eve Roper 8/7/2015
Dream Big
There's no limit
To what you can do
No body stopping you but you
You have a vision
You have a dream
Don't sleep on it
Let it be redeemed
You can finish
This race
No matter what place
You come in
You were destined to win
Dream Big
Dream Tall
Stand strong
Don't fall
(Repeat 1x)
Dreams start
From when you are a child
Let your imagination run wild
You can do it
Even when it's hard
Keep praying
That's a start
You keep praying
With a pure heart
Keep being the best
Pass the test
When you do all you can
Give it a rest , don't rest for long
Got to be strong
Get up and hustle , get up and grind
Never leave yourself behind
Dream Big
Dream Tall
Stand strong
Don't fall
(Repeat 1x)
Dream Big
Grip your passion
Don't get caught up
No distractions
(Repeat 1x)
Dream Big
Dream Tall
Stand strong
Don't fall
(Repeat 1x)
Written by: Concetta Hardnett
11/07/2021
There are those who think the spirits of loved ones departed
Have moved on to their heavenly reward,
And there are those who think they'd like to, but "cain't"
Because they still need to finish something they have started,
And until some resolve they contrive to move toward,
They stay trapped here on Earth as a "haint".
Poltergeists don't exist, no real proof there at all,
This is just an "old wives tale", at best,
So I'd entreat you to show some restraint.
That strange noise you may hear some stormy night in the hall
Is just weather related, so give it a rest.
You may think it's a "haint",
But it "ain't".
Author's note: "Haint" is an old mispronounced folklore word for "haunt", or ghost.
I woke up this morning and knew what I'd do,
I'd write me a poem, or I'd maybe write two
So pen at the ready and coffee on tap,
I waited for something to fall in my lap.
I waited, I waited, and waited some more
I stared at the ceiling, I stared at the floor,
I stared at the window, I stared at the wall
but nothing inspired me, nothing at all.
I'm sure one day I'll be seeing the light,
my head will be oozing with things I can write
But today it appears that I'm losing my zest
and maybe for now I should give it a rest
and come back tomorrow, all raring to go
and write something special when I'm in full flow.
I peeked inside the hole in my head,
And discovered a well that has run dry;
I couldn’t find a piece of original thought,
No matter how hard I had tried.
I don’t think I could write another new poem
Without repeating one of my past themes.
I probably need more experiences in life;
Wink, if you know what I mean.
My imagination wandered on in
And asked why I looked so down;
I told him I was looking for some new ideas
But an empty well is all that I found.
“Give it a rest and take the night off,
Leave me alone to weave some new tales.
When you awake I will have filled it up;
A good night’s sleep, you know, never fails.”
So I’m off to bed with an empty head,
Leaving everything up to him;
And in a day or two you can read them too -
The works of my imagination.
It is good to be a fool once in a while,
What an extraordinary feeling to be a fool!
To know nothing,
To know everything,
Yet not convincing your heart—The most brilliant buffoon,
Letting your heart float like a boat
Without an anchor
In the middle of a lake illuminated by the half moon that looks like a piece fallen from something ethereal,
Vision yourself in that boat, dear reader,
Doing nothing but just letting that moon’s love
Lurk on your lips
While you yearn earnestly
With your eyes closed like the petals of a timid lotus,
I encourage you to be a fool with me.
The river of reverie might reduce the roughness of abrasive reality of existence,
The vastness,
The long blank whiteness of life—
The 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s
Of age are indeed agitating,
Colorless at times,
There are rainbows too,
But mostly it's white, serene and quite like a pearl or a marble.
Some people ensnare their hearts,
They think heart is some petty prisoner,
But when the boon of life comes to an end
The truth hits them in the chest
And the chains ensnaring the heart
Come gushing down with a roar like a waterfall,
Sudden and loud.
Chained hearts often become hoarse hazards,
Chained and always chasing,
But chasing what
You never know.
Heart is a bird,
A brave one
Like all birds,
But let me remind you something, dear reader,
Do you ever notice the birds looking at the sky and singing soft melodies,
The melodies they don't sing when they are soaring high in the sky?
Birds need a bower too to rest and rejuvenate,
They don't have to adorn an armour on their chiselled chest all the time,
It's just not natural,
It doesn't seem right,
So take my hand and come be a fool with me
Or just be a bird and fly freely.
Your soul is nesting your heart,
Let down the gloomy guard,
Nurture the nest
And give it a rest.
Why are you watching me? Why am I on your list,
classified as an enemy combatant or potential terrorist?
Why are you watching me? Please tell me why I'm on that list.
Is it because I always challenge you? Is it because I always resist?
Why are you watching me? Why am I on the government watch list?
If I am doing anything at all criminal, then place me under arrest.
Why do you always detain me at the airport until my flight leaves?
Why do you always pull me out of line for additional screenings?
Which by the way, is publicly very humiliating.
Why are you watching me? I assure you I am no threat.
I don't reach anyone at all. I'm just a lone wolf activist,
who one day found himself in a war against the IRS,
because of that agency's criminal practice, tactics and injustice.
Why are you watching me? Please give it a rest,
but you never will, will you?
You will for the rest of my life cause me distress.
I've made my Guantánamo Bay bed,
now I have to lay in it I guess.
*
Check your flight boarding pass, if it displays anywhere an SSSS,
Congratulations,
you are on the government watch list,
along with over 1 million natural born americans of the good old U S.
*
SSSS
Secondary Security Screening Suspect
I am looking at Poetry Soup’s contests, but nothing seems “hot”.
Thought something would pop up in my imagination, but it does not.
Began reading other people’s poems, hoping to stir the brain pot.
Made some comments on many, confused by others, there are a lot.
This website has changed my life, has helped me not feel stale, or begin to rot,
Yet, here, I sit, staring at a screen, wondering how I used to write well and a lot
Because there are no words coming, no matter how hard I try to trot.
I may have to give it a rest, and begin making poetry an afterthought.
I usually do better when I relax, and make a list of favorite words to jot.
Forcing myself to write is ridiculous, as it shuts my idea cells to naught.
I had an idea yesterday, but did not write it down in time, so quickly forgot.
My muse is napping in a comfy hammock, a virtual leave-me-alone-cot,
And she’s not willing to help, until I grab an idea that is aptly caught.
I think I will sit in the sun, and calm myself down, just relax in thought.
It is the meditative times that the poems come unheeded, fast, and a lot.
Building bricks
Brick by brick we build our nation
And stone by stone we build a generation.
The children are the future, the old our voting class;
The young have given up voting because politicians have no class.
Building new laws and building new houses;
Nothing this government does smells of roses.
Leaving the EU seems like it will come back to haunt us.
Rosie is in the hospital, the NHS is seeing closes.
Sack them all because they choose money over patients;
Every generation loses faith but nothing ever changes.
So they plant a tree as they knock down a forest;
Stop with your lies, just give it a rest.
Let the people vote and then try to take the decision back.
Politics, dirty tricks; power of conviction you lack.
Money rules the world and money changes hands;
Ideology and philosophy, but still you have no master plan.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Give Yourself a Break
Come on, it’s time. Give it a rest
and stop beating yourself up
about things that are over and done with
when you know you did the best you could.
He’s gone now and you miss him,
and you think you were this, that or the other,
not patient enough, you were selfish,
you didn’t go on his walks with him
and you let him go by himself sometimes
when he had to struggle so to do it.
You went out to a poetry group at night
and left him when you should have
stayed at home with him for company.
You spent too much time with household
chores and sometimes by yourself writing.
He was the one with the health problems,
trouble walking, falling sometimes
when you weren’t there, and he never complained.
Now you look back and blame yourself
when you know, yes, you know,
if you just allow yourself, that you
did the best you could.
It was years that you took care of him,
encouraged him, helped him dressa
and walk, put up the metal ramp
when he went outside and wheeled
him to the car, put the chair in the car,
took him to appointments, got him
into the wheelchair and reversed the way home.
You washed him and changed the bed and
cooked what he liked and watched television
with him and really did give up things
you loved to do and tried to get him to
go out to events you thought he’d like.
Yes, you could be short, maybe impatient
sometimes, and said some things
you wish you hadn’t said.
Give yourself a break. You’re human
and not perfect. Remember how many times
he thanked you for all you did for him.
Remember the good times -
how many times you were gentle with him,
tried to encourage him, hugged him
and told him how much you loved him;
the nights you came down in the night
because he needed help, and you
always told him you didn’t mind,
that you’d go right back to sleep;
hours and days sitting in the hospital
waiting for him to get better enough
to come back home again.
So stop purposely wallowing
in a misery of your own making
and take back your good sense.
Remember the love.