Long Greener Poems

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


Maybe the Grass Is Greener

It's said, the grass is greener on the other side
The world as we know, split into two dimensions
To find this wonderful place, I will make great strides
It's exact location, has yet to be mentioned
Imagining, everything will end happily
No need to worry, over stress and agony
The anger and sadness, will bother us no more
Opportunity's, will be knocking at the door
I can only speculate, what delights await
We might live together, in peace and harmony
Maybe there, colors and sizes won't alienate
A better life, we all should get a chance to see
I will continue to pray, that my chance will come 
For maybe then, a better man I will become
5/6/2017
Form: Sonnet


Praying the Game

I am but a simple man who hopes and prays like you.
Who asks the Lord for earthly things that never do come true.
I turn and spin out of control and do just what I please.
Until I find it cost my soul, then I'm back down on my knee's.

When we are born, our only need is that we're fed and clean.
But soon we come to figure out what love can truly mean.
And that all the riches in the world can't heal a broken heart.
That's when we ask the man upstairs to help make a new start.

The answer to the question, whether answers come at all.
Depends on what your asking for and if you stand or fall.
They say a prayer that's steeped in faith is worth as much as gold.
But when the mine seems all dried up, you just feel bought and sold.

So why do we keep bending knee until our dieing day?
When faithless hope is all we bring to try and get our way.
A bible scholar, I am not, theres very little I've been taught.
But what I have learned in my life is to be glad for what you've got.

It seems that there are always those who wish that they could wear your clothes.
And grass is always greener when you don't know their demeanor.
So everything that you have sought with all your heart and soul.
Is right there with you in your lot to help you to be whole.
Form: Rhyme

Come To Me Sweet First October Rain

 I'm not  a wild flower
I'm not a hillside meadow,
I'm  nothing more than
 dormant grass hiding 
in a  rocky mountain's shadow.
Lifeless at the edges,
Evergreen turned brown,
stepped upon by  footsteps
from the villian of the town.

The summer is too long
The summer is too dry,
Where is the green keeper 
Where are the grazing pastures
Where is the early red flamed sky?

 Come to me
Sweet first October rain
Come to me
with spuming bubbles of champagne,
Sprinkle softly against my ear,
every lettter of your name.

Come to me,
Give me back the sparkle,
Cover me with glitter,
Do not let me die!
Do not let me wither!

Bring me back to life,
Wash me over with your 
musky and earthy smell,
Wrap me in a blanket
of fluffed polar silver pearl.

Come to me
Sweet first October rain,
Let me bathe in gentle waters,
Let me soak,let me grow stronger,
 in the outpour of your claim.

I'm not a wild flower
I'm not a hillside meadow
I am  nothing more
than dormant grass hiding
in a mountain's shadow.

Come to me
Sweet first October rain,
Splash me green and greener,
Drizzle fresh drops on my pain.
Come to me
Sweet first October rain
Come to me
with spuming bubbles of champagne,
Sprinkle softly against my ear
every letter of my name.
Form: Lyric

The Bird With a Message

The bird with a message 
Sold out citizens 
Are not far from our identity
Our future is on sales 
Yet the young are busy 
On swag 
Competitive for the wrong 
Reason 
Busy on crimes for a greener
Pasture
While our land is on sales 
But who cares 

The bird with a message 
We are not far to lose
What it only once and 
For a life time 
We have no other home 
But our home 
We have no other pride 
But the dignity of our 
Home land 
But am sorry now 
Yes to all my fellow youth 
Home and abroad 
Am sorry our land is 
On sales 
So clear right in front 
Of our view 
Yet we are busy 
Swaging
Is a shame 

The bird with a message 
Since when do we have 
Chinese friends 
When was the Genesis 
Of our relationship with China
Can any one show me their 
Sincere generosity in Africa 
If not for their profit 
How come suddenly
They are invading our 
Land 
Suddenly they are now our 
Saviour's indeed
What an ignorance 

The bird with a message
The giver never lack 
Yet Africa case remains
The opposite 
Despite we feed the world 
Yet we never run out of 
The nets of poverty 
How come things never change 
How come suddenly 
Our leaders are borrowers 
How come China suddenly 
Is this generous to AFRICA
I hope not to fight for my space
With a Chinese one day in africa
This makes me curious
And in this dept of curiosity
I spread my human wings 
with a my poems to all the 
Youth in africa just like
The bird with a message
Form: Epic

Concentrated

I find that modern concentration camps
are now hygienically focused,
fully concentrated upon themselves.

There, every glass wall is a two-way mirror
for the neatly dressed minds of swamp dwellers,
thay who slave away
weaving truth and lies together.

Nevertheless, germaphobia feels dirty all the same.

The eye in the pyramid has gone blind.
Under Benjamine Franklin’s bed
the minted scrimshaw of crisp 100-dollar bills
is chewed down to a dry-mouthed pulp.

Upon the hilly fields of Gettysburg
blood has grown a greener grass,
and yet,
on moonless nights
armies still madly charge at each other.

Call back the horses!
Let the dead fight on.

if you find yourself within those wall-less places
think of the road-kills, whole families of them,
and all they have to wear now
are flea-ridden striped pajamas.


What Wind Blows In Your Willows

What wind blows in your willows now?

What moves your leaves
nubile as they are now

Here inspiring is this the year
 of our new freedom

We are unfurling.....
Our chlorophyll is stretching to catch
 the new gift of being with other people
We are growing greener
bigger than ourselves
 larger again
Will your leaves throw shade
or be respite for others

We are colors suddenly bursting forth 
in generosity to allow the rainbow
We grow

Enjoy making it beautiful for everyone

Will you hug people more often 
now that you can again

Or still throw shade

How deep have your roots run down 
into the dark earth during this cold hard time

Did growing roots deeper and darker 
and further down make you 
a better person

Or are you shallow sucking water from the surface of things

I'm breaking open like a flower
I cannot wait to give and be given to again

I want to throw my arms wide open 
and be washed in the water of living

The sunset is far more beautiful now
and my friends are yet more precious even than before
I will be " open as the sky"
Regretting nothing and remembering only 
what was good

To feck off Friday

"Ode to Feck Off Friday"
(Folk | Melancholic | ABAB Rhyme Scheme)
(Inspired by a drizzly Dublin pub, a Drake-esque croon, Tila’s raw edge, and a longing for greasy grace)






The kettle hums a lonesome tune,
Click, the light goes on,
I burn the toast, I spill the spoon —
Another week is gone.




The screen glows gold with messages,
“Just one quick call,” they plead,
But my boots are laced for greener finesse,
And my soul’s in need of speed.




So feck off, Monday, with your grind,
And Tuesday, full of lies,
Wednesday, breakin’ heart and mind —
Thursday, you can choke on “tries.”




Oh, but Friday…
Friday’s the crack in the ceiling light,
A whisper through the rain,
When I trade my tie for cigarette smoke,
And kiss the 5:03 train.




I walk past the office, past the suits,
Past dreams I used to chase,
Down to the corner, where the neon fruits
Still glow with some old grace.




And there it is — Papadias’ sign,
A flickerin’ red and blue,
Like a siren song in olive oil and rye,
One slice meant for two…
(…but I eat it all, like I always do.)




A pint of black, half-spilt, half-sipped,
On a chipped Formica throne,
While the jukebox sings of love that slipped
And debts I’ve long outgrown.




The barman nods — he knows my name,
Not “sir,” not “manager,”
Just “You again?” — a gentle flame,
The only peace I earn.




So here’s to all the weeks I’ve lost,
To bosses, bills, and pride,
To promises I paid at cost —
And Friday, where I hide.




Oh, Feck Off Friday, my rebel saint,
You don’t fix a thing, it’s true,
But for one night, I can disbelieve the weight,
And dream the world ain’t cruel.




Just grease-stained fingers, streetlight glow,
A cold one by my side,
And the ghost of someone I used to know
Still waitin’… just outside.




So when the world says “Hustle! Rise!”
I whisper low and slow —
“Feck off,” beneath these Dublin skies,
“It’s Friday. Let me go.”






// End on a fading hum, like a distant train or a vinyl run-out groove. The last bite of pizza long gone. The pint, almost.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Birds In the Morning

Birds in the Morning
by Robert (Bob) Moore

I watched the birds this morning, soaring high and flying free
masters of the clear blue sky, not earthbound, like you and me
they soar and swoop, and climb and dive, and sing their own sweet song
I thought that, that would be a place, I could easily belong

But then I thought about my life, and what it would mean to me
if I was just a bird, with no loving family
no wife, no kids, no home, no place to call my own
no friends and neighbours in my life,  just me, and me alone

It’s always greener, so they say, on the other side
but would I trade the love I have, to swoop, and fly, and glide
I really do not think so, family is everything to me
so I’ll watch the birds tomorrow, and happy I will be
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Land of Killarney

Sun is declining, beneath a blue Irish sea
With a fire to warm me' bones, in a cottage by the bay
And the coals to bake me scones, 
Where the bracken turns so reddin'
Like a wildfire on the mountain
And wee nanny goats on rocky hillsides, are too many for the countin'

Heather waves in summer breezes...
And harshness bringin' winter's season
Thar' be waving sails upon the blue
And leafy shamrocks on the green 
Where the rugged shores, and seagulls cry, and a sunset captures you

Granite stones, and bogs of grass, water gleams like shining glass
Friendly folks bearin' ruddy cheeks, and a colleen, fair thee lass
We'll tip our mug at village pub, and make a toast to St. Patty's kin
Let me sink me' eyes  upon the scene of Irish rugged land 
Upon the skies, upon the streams, where druid legends live
Upon the land...home of the clan, where me many roots began

Where the ole' pale moon at nightfall, scatters memories a'glowing
Of fair roses of Tralee, over garden gate, a growin' 
Charming valleys, greener hillsides, fill thee heart of all 'me clan
Pick ye' a shamrock.... look for gold, shake yer' hands with leprechauns
Kiss ye' a Blarney .....Come to Killarny, come to all that's home to me
Where names of O'Reily, or McDougal where so many Mac' roots began


For Debbie's contest "Over the Rainbow"

A Lovers World and Dreamers Dream

Hope lives on a four leaf clover.
Greener pastures when yesterday's over.
My heart spins when her hair gets twirled.
And I start to shake in this lovers world.

I walked around the corner and stayed awhile.
That's where I was when I seen her smile.
I felt more in that moment than in my whole life.
Straight to my heart just like a knife.

I've made that turn a time or two.
But theres no turning round now that it's you.
The sun came up on the other side.
Took away any shadow where I can hide.

Destiny delivered a dream for two.
Everything has suddenly become pink and blue.
I can't help but wait for the bubble to pop.
Borrowed trouble in this dream balloon shop.

Hope lives on a four leaf clover. 
Greener pastures when yesterday's over.
My heart spins when her hair gets twirled.
And I start to shake in this lovers world.
Form: Rhyme

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