Long Gladder Poems

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


Premium Member Packing Up

Moving out feels much sadder
than moving in, more gladder--
which is poor grammar
for severance of love's embodied glamour.

Packing up
feels more like packing in
and down,
cutting ties with my own stage,
this playful working space,
for everyday self
and other witnessing life
love
hate
joy
anger
courage
fear
healing
suffering

Not a fabulously grand stage
but my intimate memories
triggered by damp basement
through dusty attic,
inside resonant
and outside growing resilient,
front yard exhibitions
and back yard more inhibited glimmers
and shivers,
dimmers
and emotive rivers

Moving out
without regard for loss
feels too surgical,
masochistic,
violent dross,
silent shriek of bad faith,
cross,
divestment from personal
political
economic
cultural placement
more sacredly cherished
than secularly calculated
in clock time to move on.

My best therapeutic intent 
to know I leave this tiny spot of Earth
at least as healthy
and beautiful
as I have found her
while unpacking
in her abandoned
neglected
bramble thorned sadness
inviting my hope-filled gladness
too few years ago.


Bet Hell and Fiery Tongue


The Barmy Army still wading among the dung 

After Ashes tsunami any new songs now sung

Aussies smarmy but new Harmy..Josh Tongue


Dream of gung ho team does seem far flung

Baz loves betting & forgetting.. took a bung?

Beyond reproach coach on to job has clung

Some fans jest but suggest should be hung

For bish bash bosh tosh Mac attack’s brung


Yep Jacob up his eponymous ladder swung

Radder bowler Josh has climbed many a rung

Cruel BazBull rule made us all madder..stung

Cool fool with incontinent bladder & one lung


New flair heirs did woo with their foo & kung

We coo pair made us gladder.. despair wrung

No longer unsung.. Bet Hell & its fiery Tongue
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member ''seed of Love''

I sail unaware 
into
 
the ocean currents 
of her life:

and 
smitten, I 
desire to ride 

them with her.

Somewhere 
along
 
the ocean 
ways, a 

seed of love 

plants itself in 
the soil 

of my heart 

and takes root 
and grows—

only to perish 
like 

an embryo of  
hope 

that's aborting itself:

though I love 
her still, 

she cuts
and lacerates my heart 

like a careless 
knife. 

In spite of 
this cruelty and myself, 

I look

for encouragement
in her stare. 

And 

at the outlines 
of her 

magnificent 
form 

I marvel: 

she is 
indeed 

a Helen of Troy, 
a Venus— 
on 

whose 
loveliness I 

so richly gorge! 

But never was 
a lonelier
man 

more wretched 
than I 

am, 

as she cannot
return 

my
affections  

with equal measure 
of feeling

or passion.  

I would be gladder 
had she been unwedded 

to another,

and could more 
easily be 

within my desirous 
and jealous 

orbit! 

In time, I 
never 

see her 
again;

and love, 
or the similitude 
of It—

like 
some aborted 

fetus—

flushes down the  
toilet 

and dies

with her parting 
as well...

Premium Member My Dearest Lover

My dearest lover bought me a cover,
To help me sleep with warmth through winter.
Even when I sometimes felt somewhat bitter,
I hold this blanket, think of him, and feel better.

My dearest lover comes to me in any weather,
I wrap him in the blanket and hold him closer.
When he's held by me, he becomes warmer.
When I'm near him, my heart becomes fonder.

My dearest lover promises we'll stay together.
Every sweet promise makes our love deeper.
I only hope I can make us happier and happier.
I only expect he appreciates me as his lover.

My dearest lover makes me feel I too matter.
So I'll always make sure he is looked after.
He makes me feel so much gladder,
For he is as sweet and smooth as cake batter.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member The Good Life

Mornings, light and smiling
Coffee brewing, black
Meat frying in a cast iron skillet
Grease, flour and milk, stirred together
Gravy poured over steaming biscuits
Granny’s breakfast – typically
Grown to life from a wood cookstove

Noon, gentle sunshine
Picking cornfield beans, breaking
The beans and then washing them
Placing them into a vessel, a pot
Seasoned with pork - fatback
Cooking over the sweaty heat 
Of that stove where oak and birch
Smoked with flames of dripping
Perspiration falling from faces
Who were encouraged to listen
With wistful wishes warming
Hearts who know Granny’s garden
Will sustain the whole lot of a family
From the Appalachian mountains

Evening, flickering fireflies
Dancing through the night
Flavoring the heart with joy
As the porch swing squeaks to life
Reminding the heart that loves
Lives here, amid the beans and trees
The biscuits and pork drippings
Grease for gravy, seasonings
And the mind just a bit gladder
Because there is this devotion
Family with foundations of love
Brought to life by His presence

It is their faith that awakens
The mind, the heart, the soul
To the light that survives the test 
Of time, of memories, of sighs
In the air of reminiscence, memory
Breathing music through the night
Singing praise to the God of love
The reason for all that delights
The wonder of a prayer satisfied

To the memory – this is the good life!




u CHOOSE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Theme chosen - 15.Love
April 9, 2022


List of Crimes Against My Heart

I need to open up a case
And let my heart investigate
Why it feels gladder than
All the years it's ever been
I will open up a file
And start with your happy smile
That lights up when I walk in
The second item I'll begin 
To talk about will be your eyes
Always holding a surprise
When they stare so lovingly
Like I'm the only one you see
Let's make this list a little longer
With your arms that have been stronger
That will hold me tightly through
The times I am sad and blue
Number four I can't describe
It comes from down deep inside
A feeling that is new and strange
But something I would never change
The next step is number five
It's what keeps my heart alive
With each beat your love will pump
A tune of thumpety thump thump
This list is starting to get large
Like the big energy charge
That zaps me when I am near
And tells me you'll always care
I love the great number seven
Always taking me to heaven
When your voice whispers so low
"I could never let you go"
Up ahead is number eight
Feeling there's no mistake
This relationships in motion
Moving along with devotion
Down the track of this love line
We're now reaching the clue nine
That are fingers soft and gentle
Driving me so very mental
Concluding this crime list is ten
Taking me right to the end
Of searching for something true
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To repeat all of the time
This fantastic list of crimes
Form: Rhyme

Its Giving

Park walks 
Long talks 
Liking the vibes 
Trying to go along for the ride  
Date nights , date days 
Spending time with you 
Something I wouldn't trade 
Laughing , romancing and let's not forget dancing 
To the beat of our own song 
I really dig you hun 

Vibing,digging,
Thats what 
Its giving 
(Repeat 1 x)

Let's go 
Let's see 
Lets make this 
About you and me 
Learn about each other 
In and out 
Laugh more 
Cry less 
Lets bring out the best 
Small things they matter 
Im glad 
But let's get gladder 

Vibing,digging,
Thats what 
Its giving 
(Repeat 1 x)

Its giving 
Me and you 
I can enjoy this view 
(Repeat once)

Vibing,digging,
Thats what 
Its giving 
(Repeat until chorus fades)

Written by 
Concetta Hardnett 
04/26/2026

Asking For Good Things

This precious life was entrusted to your loving kindness;
      friends and strangers mocked me causing endless hurt,
because I had a different prospective, a holier outlook
       with a faith that only saints would keep from impurities:
infidels or fools were they to deny me the expression of my spirituality?
        How did I resist every temptation, every deception by rejecting infamy? 
O Father, in prayers I have spoken to you, laying all my faults
        before you, nothing I have hidden:  deeds you would have seen,
and words bitter or sweet that you would have instantly heard;
        and should I ask for more compassion than those who have never sinned? 
Only Christ was perfect and sinless, the Word who helped you create
         everything from planets to stars, even larger universes than ours...
O Father, I'm asking for good things to make my living easier,
         its not the materialistic ones, but all those offering an intense light,
that can uplift me in times of despair, console me and make me gladder;
         and would I ask you to add more years to my already serene life?
Yes, I really would:  to accomplish my mission and complete this long journey,
          before I'll give up my spirit and enter the kingdom you have destined for me...    
The atheist doesn't believe in Your existence, but admires a crimson sunset,
           and a brilliant sunrise, never understanding the Creator's purpose; 
that's why I am speaking with You with openness and clarity to obey and be blessed,
           although Lucifer hides in the thick grass, transforming himself into a serpent:
He will try to deceive my loyal soul with empty promises and quick schemes,
           never could I take his side, abandon You, my eternal God, and lose my peace!



Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Getting older part one

Not fretting couldn’t be gladder about getting podgy?

Forgetting about a stodgy bladder that’s definitely dodgy?

Sadder even snotty about needing a potty..regretting being dotty

Betting some grotty grumps about bumps & lumps anything spotty


Sometimes memory stumps.. only remember embers now befuddled

Somehow the huddled cast of the distant past still cuddled 

Ashes of once clear flashes of near yesteryear appear muddled


Ribald oracle.. grinning about going bald...hair thinning

Apart from the ears and nose where it shows..grows & flows

Can't pretend follicle foes & woes.. do descend dear friend 

Clearer you're now nearer to the rear end than the beginning


Refined increasingly find you do become more kind

Other than the tumour of another baby boomer

Defined needy seedy greedy.. must feed me consumer 

Not a rumour..increasingly I pined for candour and humour 

Chaps can perhaps blossom as a wined & dined late bloomer


No remorse.. scheming larrikin leaning's still in force

Gleaning the gleaming meaning of life is all about giving

Dreaming.. loving.. smile beaming and "living" of course
Form: Rhyme

BBC belongs to you and me


Tell those little sh*ts to get their grubby mitts off our adored BBC

Applaud our global player & noble naysayer slayer lobal pedigree 

Proof sleuth with facts truth acts & fights spoofs aloof uncouth pacts

Boorish bores banging on more doors scores culture wars at all hours

Sod off you toff …from the off this creation belongs to the nation is ours

Beacons lights..Aunty's moreish delights & rights wrongs for you & me.. 

The BBC

 
Want views on that ruse which skews slews media does confuse 

Paul & Ian with their peers spurn amuse burn abuse turn the screws

Politicians churn flee the crew on their pews glee at taking the pee 

Cheers for 30 years of you know who.. Have I got News for You

The BBC


The tally of trail blazing skits..wits rally with amazing gambits & hits 

Us all gladder for the traitors creators or scribes jibes of Blackadder

Del boy joy rapscallion with medallion rules..only fools & horses 
 
BBC our greatest cultural forces can be racy & pacy going doolally 

Partridge in a flair tree or nothing can scare her..Sarah in Happy Valley

Or might reckon Barry does marry Essex should beckon.. Gavin & Stacey

The BBC


A fix of the world’s best radio mix…our choice the alternative voice of 6

Caress finesse of TMS ..best way to end Saturday bless Match of the Day

All the classical Pom aplomb from a night at the Proms in the Albert Hall

London realms cover to cover from that other older brother Robert Elms

Our plea she must be free to bewitch so don't bit*h & ditch the licence fee 

The BBC 


Which is why especially today I say Aunty…our everlasting British Broadcasting corporation  

Ignore twits & gits & with the rest of the nation..thanks for casting our cultural celebration

I lean on you..critics in a tizz hither thither we dithers it "Withers" lean on me...love u to bits!

Won’t lie will tell us why.. the objective high vis collective “WE” …that is and could only be 

The BBC

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