Long Guidebook Poems
Long Guidebook Poems. Below are the most popular long Guidebook by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Guidebook poems by poem length and keyword.
With crack of first light of dawn
The day's work begins; sleep's gone
Gather food; cook
Aroma fills air, breathe on.
Spices, herb bouquet add-on
Day has great outlook
Just short time to lay eyes on
My poetry notebook write-on
Bible read on
Just as Bible is guidebook
For life, food needs a cookbook
Then meals invite
Reading Bible helps outlook
On life, cookbook gives new look
Or change outright
In life wrong way you may have took
Not too late_change_read handbook
Get it now right
The reward is great as bite
Nutmeg_sugar laced delight
Good baked apple
Simple food, life live right
Change become a guiding light
Be ensample
Eat good food_let soul soar heights
Longevity_inner light
No thorn apples
Sponsor:David Williams
Contest:Virelai
Understanding me is not an easy task,
It takes a while to see behind my mask.
I’m kind, caring and hardworking,
Don’t mistake that for being easy going.
I’m like a Rubrik cube to put it plain,
No two sides are the colors the same.
My heart values are the only constant,
Change is an element of life constant.
Only a few people really know me,
You only see what I want you to see.
Quite reserved when you meet me,
It takes a while to really know me.
I can reel you in like a fishhook,
Teaching me is like reading a guidebook.
By no means am I an open book,
Knowing me requires a closer look.
We went to romantic Scotland for our honeymoon on Hogmanay
Had no idea it was a rather special brunette-only-welcome kind of day
My husband tried to go into the lobby of the bed and breakfast twice.
He is Dane, and blonde, so they barred the door not twice, but thrice.
What is going on? I asked him, when he came back to bed, all mad.
No idea, he said, but they would not let me in. He acted kind of sad.
They kept yelling Hogmanay, and I have no idea what that means.
I ran down to find out, I was met with shrieks, whistles and screams.
Retrieved guidebook and looked up Hogmanay to see what I could see.
Superstition says day after December 31st your next visitor should be
A male with brunette hair, if you want to have any kind of luck.
We had chosen Scotland during Hogmanay. I had to say “Oh, Fruck!”
I readily admit I am a country bumpkin
But I am no buffoon
I am in this to build others up
To help others win
To raise up my neighbors and my friends
We hear about the coastal towns
Both east and west coast have terrific reputations
Their people are more sophisticated, more stylish, chic.
It is fashionable at both coasts to be less hands-on.
To be less community oriented.
In the big citiies of the coasts, people on the streets do not speak.
They do not smile.
They do not say “hi”.
They walk past each other, like trotting lamp posts.
Not noticing faces or inflections.
Not noticing humanness in each other.
I am in New York City today, trying to figure it out.
Where is a guidebook to help me unlearn social niceties?
How can I immediately become less human? Less caring?
How do I not say “hi” to everyone I pass?
Is there a manual? A cheat sheet? A U-tube video?
Too late. I am already here, feeling miserable.
Wishing I was back in the Midwest where it is okay to care about strangers.
It's your intrepid space explorer, here -
reporting from the planet Earth.
It's a difficult place to live, I fear,
but my advice for what it's worth
is when someone's looking for a fight,
just say, "I'd like to stay and play,
but I must be somewhere else tonight",
and calmly turn and walk away.
Yet, if there is something to be gained,
don't be afraid to talk (not shout).
After both positions have been explained,
you might be able to work it out.
Also, try to love. For all that you may give,
(it seems to me, so very true)
on this planet where we now live,
double will come back to you.
Praise be to You, Almighty God
Thank you for recording the Sacred Scriptures, the Bible.
We read Your written Word; we hear Your spoken Word;
if we write and speak in reference to the divine,
we must be careful not to change even one little word.
Father, I do not understand, but all praise is Yours.
No human can comprehend the work of your Spirit,
in interpreting what the Bible brings to our minds.
Praise be to You, Our Creator
At creation, You spoke the universe into being.
Over the chaos of nothingness, your Spirit hovered
and worlds were formed, networks that form a bridge
from the mighty sun to the tiniest individual cell.
At the tower of Babel, you confused the language
of men and scattered them across the whole earth
to thwart their evil thoughts of making a name for themselves.
Praise be to You, Our Savior
Jesus, You are the living Word, full of grace, full of truth.
At the age of twelve, you astounded the Temple elders by your words;
You were doing your Father's business.
The Beatitudes, the Sermon on the Mount tell how you want us to live.
Protect them from weak translations and deliberate change.
We need no other words than the Bible which has stood
for two thousand years to guide our spiritual growth.
Praise be to You, the Holy Spirit
You speak not on your own authority, but by the sanction
of Him who spoke the world into being.
You put the words in the hearts and minds of forty men who
wrote the Bible, His Holy Word, our guidebook.
Give us understanding so we can be true testimony to
God's goodness - His love, His truth, His grace.
My prayer: to never degrade or misuse Your holy Word.
Who initially determined what is good and what is bad? What to think, and what not to ask? Why the hell doesn't anyone else voice more questions like that? Why are most people sheep that get caught up In Corruption, which evokes disturbances within their DNA that promotes external long-lasting destruction?
These polluted ideas the media sinisterly pumps, the more their smile turns, the more ours become a less innocent one. False power increases with the more sheep they recruit to herd. The evil Shepards of the dark world know weak minds hang on to their every word. I wonder if those sheeple know they have a choice. You can follow the crowd or find your inner voice.
I, like many at a young age, was drilled with the notion you must obey. You can't have that until you do this. You shouldn't say that, God doesn't like disrespectful dirty kids. Taught to be someone I was not and never understood the power of self-thought. Growing in age it's become more clear, everything I was taught was based on someone else's fear. It's these false mantras that have traveled many bloodlines through. It's all the lies our ancestors passed onto us, that I promise you are not true. We don't need a life guidebook to abide by.
The way we choose to live and think is a choice, that should be yours or mine. No social standard or trend will dictate what I do. I will not join the crowd of following people who have no real clue. If you don't break the cycle of doing what they tell us to, then you will never be free from the chains of past ancestral curses and people's fears bestowed on you. I'm choosing to think thoughts of my own and feel things as I should and not the way I was told. It's not going to happen overnight. These are years and years of words I have to rewrite.
Grab a hold of YOUR life, you have the power of choice. Don't forget when you speak to use your voice.
The young couple was about to have a baby so they thought it would be nice to sit down with his grandpa and ask for some advice.
“What can I tell you about raising children?” He said. “About helping them to grow. I guess the first thing would be to be prepared for all the things you do not know.”
“I will tell you raising children can be messy…you’ll be joining an exclusive group…who wonder how something so delicate and pure can keep filling up with so much poop”
“I will tell you raising children never stops…it will last your whole life long…that sometimes you will do things right…other times you’ll do them wrong.”
“How some days it will seem so hard…other days like a piece of cake and the best that you can hope for is to learn from your mistakes.”
“Sometimes you’ll wonder, ‘What was I thinking entering into parenthood…when your children are acting up or not behaving the way they should.
“Other times love oozes out of you…it’s something you can’t hide…those days when all is running smoothly…when you can sit back and enjoy the ride.
“Around the time you’re feeling comfortable…when “We got this! you exclaim…your second child arrives and you realize…no two children are the same.
Your parenting confidence takes a hit…you can throw out all those lessons your first child taught……You’ll find some of the things you learned will work…but most of them…will not
“You’ll worry as they sleep at night…you’ll worry when they crawl…and when they start to walk…you’ll worry they will fall.”
“As they grow it’s not so much their falling that will cause the uneasiness in you…it’s knowing you won’t always be there to catch them when they do.”
“Since there is no universal guidebook for raising children…I think the best thing you can do…is to realize while you are raising them…they are also raising you.
And when your children have all grown…the house is silent…but your memories are loud…you will smile thinking…hoping…that you did each other proud.
You will remember all those moments….all those times you worried…all those times you laughed and cried…and marvel at how after all these years you still have so much love inside.
You’ll look back on the life you’ve lived…
remembering all the love…and then
You’ll smile wishing you could go back in time…
and do it all again.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Looking up I was so awestruck,
suddenly my muse was unstuck;
oh windstorm_
I saw a huge flock of bluebirds,
singing a song so long unheard;
oh rainstorm_
I got out my poem notebook,
my poetry cookbook, guidebook;
oh brainstorm_
Oh joy and glee- I am carefree,
yes, I have opened the latchkey;
oh firestorm_
Muse came to me on the skyline,
with bluebirds flying a grapevine;
oh snowstorm_
________________________
May 8, 2020
Poetry/Compounding Verse/Muse Came in a Storm
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1249-637-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Compound Verse
sponsor, Joseph May
Third Place
The past can be found written in history books,
Statues stand and tell no lies.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.
We are pawns in a game of queens, kings, and rooks;
Bygone crimes we seek to sanitize.
The past can be found written in history books.
Time does not change a hero to a crook,
And to the devil you cannot eulogize.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.
No matter what liberties with the truth are took,
Man’s bygone crimes remain, that all must realize.
The past can be found written in history books.
Always remember: man’s follies are just a page in God’s scrapbook,
Our foolishness we look to normalize.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.
This world came without a guidebook,
Our past is not perfect and cannot be idealized.
The past can be found written in history books.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.