Long Grovel Poems
Long Grovel Poems. Below are the most popular long Grovel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grovel poems by poem length and keyword.
jan2012
(Resolutions is a series of 6 poems . These are a tribute to Mr.Abhay Keni a technocrat, genius, philosopher and guide...above all a humble human being. All 6 volumes are a tribute to his simplicity and his way of life.)
This brand new year,
A voice inside me keeps whispering without any fear,
“You need to mend yourself now and here”
So please listen to me your inner voice and to transgress the path ahead be aptly clear.
Live such that the fear of death does not enter your heart,
Do deeds such that dear ones and friends from you never do part.
Live such that in the name of religion you hurt no one,
Respects other’s and demand yours be respected by everyone.
Live such as to love your life and perfect your life,
And always make attempts to beautify as many things as possible in this life.
Live such as to make your life long,
In the service of humanity, and also to correct many wrongs.
Live such so as to give a word or a salute when meeting a friend with grace,
Or passing a stranger in a lonely place.
Live such as to be able to respect everyone,
And try to grovel at none.
Live such as to arise at morn ,
To be able to give thanks for the joys of life, food ,health and for a human to be born.
Live such so as to abuse no one ,as it turns a wise into a fool
And robs the spirit of it’s vision and that really cruel.
Live such that when the time comes to die,
Don’t be like the people with hearts of fear and cry
But the one who will sing their own death songs,
And in them will give a message to all as to how in their life their joys prolong.
The Jester tumbled in
with his fancy footwork
into the castle's great hall,
raising his arms, waving to all.
He's dressed from head to toe
in humorous multi-coloured attire
and red pointed shoes.
Tied around his painted clown face,
a funny pointed red ball hat with silver bells,
ringing as he pranced.
In his hand a square bird that doesn't eat
and all it does is tweet, tweet, tweets.
His fans stand up clapping their hands,
yelling with loud cheers;
a bunch of local yokels full of ale and beer.
Then, someone calls his name in a chant,
“Jester, Jester, Jester!”
They all join in.
The Jester said,
“Stand up and place the outcome of the future in my hands.”
As the minstrel's play, “This Land is Ours.”
Poor fools didn't understand.
“Let's raise the mortal alarms,
and let me wear the crown.
I promise to build a great wall
and keep all the clowns out of town."
With all the charm he could muster
for a roaring storm,
he leaps making promises he never keeps.
He dances and prances
with a pinch and a grab to their tender form.
“Nobody but I, deserve the crown
because I’m the best.
I’ll make everyone grovel
down on their knees
and have them all kiss my royal gown.
If I can't cut the mustard
and spread my seed,
underneath a heap, take heed.
I'll fire anyone that stands in my way
and replace with my family and friends in royal seats,
to accomplish all off my promised feats.
Be warned, I am here to stay."
8/10/2017
Not for the contest
I had laid foundation for this moment.
But who I wonder, might be listening?
The deftly fashioned phrases I had planned,
now tumble into mismatched tiles
of scrambled words, from scrabble's hand
spilling garble out of hand!
Now, this is news you may refuse
But let me tell you: HOW NOT TO ARGUE!
Yes! Wrestle, woo with words, I will!
I spill opinions, and take a stand!
Will he fall and say “Yes dear,”
while my stunning words appear
taking hold the upper hand?
Darn it!, much against my will,
emotional blubber, my tears will well!
My calm approach, and swift attack,
falls apart, WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?? !!
My soapbox, platform, for two left feet,
will crumble with my shamed defeat!
My five alarm fire, starts with a blaze,
too soon becomes a fading haze !
Just gol-darn smoke gets in his face!
Gibberish, senseless words out loud,
once proud embers, sound absurd!
Can't I once, get THE LAST WORD??
The surging tide, a frothy ripple,
makes him giggle, never grovel!
Pleasure gleams in both his eyes,
This drama queen just wants to die!
Dang it, I can never win
He folds his arms, and sports a grin!
Better end this bitter novel......
Let me dig, with my own shovel !!
______________________
For Verlena's Slam Contest...Round 2
Paradise Lost:Technology
No, sorry, won't grovel at its electronic toes!
People so busy on Facebook or texting.
Figures show younger people have
even stopped loving sexing?
So stuck to their computers are they!
Worse, human communication skills suffered the most.
"I'm good ", "thank you" and "O.K is all people can say?
Nor can they speak or write intelligently.
Dinners are the worst,when cell phones
jump out of pockets like juicy liverwurst.
At least in poetry I find, far more than
insipid three words.
You all blow my mind, your love, oh,how
it shows.
Whole paragraphs and wonderful life
experiences live here.
Poetry Soup~ our very last human hemisphere!
Panagiota Romios
4/7/2019
A pampered son of privilege, of infantile entitlement,
he rode the escalator down, grandstanding his campaign.
He tongue-lashed his contenders, making them grovel
into silent shame, silent, scandalous, craven disgrace,
when Piper had his way.
He spattered spiteful splatter on his screeching penny whistle,
crude culture war caustics, the coded corrosive cacophony
of othering, of terrorizing, the Great Replacement closet
skeletons in every white supremacist’s delusion,
when Piper had his way.
The raging torches burned holes in the night sky,
from all the fuming, festering fractures they came.
He reeled in vermin, gnawers, ticks, fleas, and maggots.
From fetid, rotted flesh, the dead and dying democracy,
when Piper had his way.
The noxious stench permeated every moral fiber,
Every conviction was consumed by avarice.
Every flaunted corruption overpowered common decency.
Every dull-witted stunt became a predictable mockery,
when Piper had his way.
And thus, he led all the children of Hamelin astray
with his deceptive, discordant whistle squeaks.
He sealed them in his criminal conspiracy cave.
They never questioned his chicanery,
when Piper had his way.
And so, when Piper finally faded away
the defilement dragged on and on.
The diseased, depraved devaluation persisted.
The sordid, squalid, sickly stain remained,
since Piper had his say.
my love life is like a plot in a grand novel,
where dawn stands tall,
yet dusk must kneel
and grovel.
each chapter of it dims as twilight nears,
unleashing darkness that feeds on
the carcass of
waning years.
yet expectation remains high...
waiting for another page
to turn and turn
until old age.
meanwhile, the plot keeps thickening...
bringing to life
more of the fears
in a world full of strife.
yet love keeps its shine in the distance,
like a mirage that gleams in space,
offering false satiation,
only to fade into non-existence.
but the story will never end...
until the Author of all things
chooses to write an epilogue
of how much of his love we all depend.
I'm so doggone ugly,
I look like a faded roach;
If I were a pile of roadkill,
The buzzards wouldn't approach!
Oh sweet mirror on the wall,
Why stab me in the back?
You tell me that I'm beautiful,
Then fall to the floor and crack!
I went to a local photographer,
Here's something you won't believe,
He took one look at this ugly mug,
And paid me just to leave!
I can't go to the chicken coop,
To gather a single egg;
Those hens won't let me enter,
Unless I grovel and beg!
I never committed a crime,
Though my picture's on the wall;
Ugliness is a criminal act,
It's certainly against the law!
A cop pulled me over,
I asked what I did wrong;
He took one look at this sourpuss,
And said..."Nuthin', please go home!"
When I walk by flower beds,
The petals begin to wilt;
Every time I play pinball,
The game automatically tilts!
I married an ugly woman,
Someone uglier than me;
We bought ourselves an ugly dog,
Now we're as happy as can be!
Share your empathy of unbridled dreamlands
my dear friend
and help me heal my abandoned, decrepit heart
with its peeling, dangling memories
in my troubled mind
Give me faith for shattered wishes
lead me to meadows of pulsating heartbeats
so I may rest my battered spirit
in the sun's gentle glow
to find the elation of serenity without pain
where I'll drink the elixir of forgotten promises
that linger still, on the edge of reality
like an unwanted scent of decay
drifting across the cobwebs of love's illusion
where my heart was left ramshackled
from the lips of a stranger's breathless kiss
which dripped honey upon the mouth of betrayal
to leave me a fool in a cold, barren tragedy
Help me, my dear friend, cling to this moment of survival
and not allow me to grovel on the ground of disrepair
before I fall away from the world
in a remorseful cloud of suffering
Give me hope and reasons for peaceful constraint
so my broken heart can leave this realm
of dim-lit shadows
that haunt my dejected soul
Wipe away my tear-filled pain
with your hands of comfort
so I may watch the sunrise again
and find light to repair the pieces of my world
that lay in my decrepit heart in need of repair
We Are the Product
By franklin Price
posted on Poetry soup 1/2/2016
We are the product of our years
Our months and every day
The time we spend who we meet
The things we do and say
Live to work or work to live
What is the reason why
Is it pride we take or it takes us
Live the truth or live a lie
Are we happy in what we're doing
If not whose fault is that
The choice is ours it's ours to make
To know just where we're at
Consequently we're examples
To others that we meet
Who may think we walk on water
Want to grovel at our feet
Or think that we are stupid
Not worth the time of day
Wouldn't want to be us
Don't believe a word we say
What is your example
Do you live your life with taste
Or do just enough to get by
It is your life to waste
Take a look an honest look
It never is too late
To change life for the better
To make yourself feel great
Choices we make the paths we take
The people we befriend
Will follow us for all our days
Until we reach the end
I haven’t seen “Melania” -
To do so, I’ve no plans,
For I am not, in any shape
Or form, one of her fans.
It’s just another instance of
A move that’s gauche and crass,
To rub into our faces
All the bad that’s come to pass.
Our country ruled by tyrants,
Lowlifes bringing fear and strife
And now 40 million dollars
Spent to showcase one such wife.
Just to think of all that money
And the homes that it could build
Wasted on each White House lily,
Which just reprobates would gild.
When I checked “Rotten Tomatoes,”
Which rates many movie picks,
I was not surprised to see it rated
With a lowly 6.
Called self-serving and pathetic,
Boring, dull and bad and bland,
Critics hated it but not her fans,
Who grovel on command.