Long Hart Poems
Long Hart Poems. Below are the most popular long Hart by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hart poems by poem length and keyword.
We need to remember our heritage and the reason we celebrate the 4th of July.
Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence? Their story. . .
Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.
Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.
Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.
What kind of men were they?
Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.
Eleven were merchants.
Nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated.
But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton , Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General
George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed.
The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying.
Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.
So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid.
Remember: freedom is never free!
(Revised with new homophone added in. Thanks for the catch, Becca!)
*Wants upon **uh thyme inn uh would, uh vary gneiss prints named Hairy
met inn the missed, hi awn the bow of uh tree- uh ferry named Tarry.
The ferry felt lo, fore he was week, and he was inn knead of sum meet.
He bald, “Whoa is me. Eye cant even stand hear awn my own too feat!
My pour hart is braking, and I’m inn pane. The last thyme that eye eight
was daze ago. Ewe sea, I’m inn uh hays and due naught feel sow grate.
Eye parish and long fore whine and ham. Even bettor wood bee lam!
Butt eye wood settle four uh peace of bred with sum suite bury jam!”
Prints Hairy new he had sum mince, sum Tick Tax that **whir inn the pear
of gnu read genes he war. He took them out and waived them inn the heir.
*“Lickerish to, eye halve write hear!” Prints Hairy tolled the ferry.
“Its naught much, butt pleas dew eat. Later awn, wheel dyne and make marry.”
Prints Hairy placed the ferry Tarry aun his pail ***wight hoarse.
Then aweigh the roil with the ferry hastened aun his homeward coarse.
Awl day long they road and road. ***Wen the ferry started to grown.
Suddenly, from the hoarse, both the man and ferry whir throne.
Hungrily they paste beneath the setting son and threw the knight.
They pressed awn until mourning. Hairy’s residents came inn cite!
Prints Hairy’s wife had supper ready, and she’d maid uh pi.
From udder happiness, the ferry thought that he mite dye!
She *heeded up they’re food four them. They both had groan sew pail!
She listened as the ferry Tarry tolled his tragic tail . . .
of how heed lost his weigh and, four food, had knot won crumb
until her deer spouse rescued hymn. At last, his prints had come!
Written April 10, 2015, using homophones from various lists.
Note: I did not use letters, for example, U for “you” ; they were not on the lists I found.
Neither was “hee” which I was going to use for “he.”
The main list used was The HOMOPHONES LIST of John F Troutman and Joy A Miller
* these are a few more homophones I found on Wikipedia’s list.
** these homophones appear on Homophones.com, perhaps the most comprehensive one.
*** These homophones, perhaps antiquated, are from Suber & Thorpe British English
ONLY JESUS UNDERSTAND IT ALL
I TRY SO HARD TO STOP THE TEARS
THAT FLOW FROM DAY TO DAY,
FROM THE BURDENS THAT I CARRY
AND THE STORM THAT BLEW MY WAY.......
I HAVE BEEN IN IN THIS VALLEY NOW
SO LONG I CANNOT NOT SEE,
IF THERE IS ANY SUNSHINE LORD
THAT WILL SHINE OUT THERE FOR ME....
CHORUS,
NO ONE SEEMS TO UNDERSTAND IT ALL
THIS CROSS I,VE CARRIED LONG,
I WANT MY BODY FREE FROM PAIN
AND MY HEART BE FULL OF SONG.....
NO ONE SEEMS TO UNDERSTAND
THIS PAIN I,M GOING THROUGH,
OH LORD I NEED SOME ANSWERS
AND I NEED THEM NOW FROM YOU....
YOU KNOW MY HEART IS BREAKING LORD
FROM THIS BURDEN THAT I BARE,
AND MY TEARS THEY KEEP FLOWING
WHILE MY MIND IN CONSTANT FEAR.
CHORUS,
NO ONE SEEMS TO UNDERSTAND
THIS CROSS I,VE CARRIED LONG
I WANT MY BODY FREE OF PAIN,
AND MY HEART BE FILLED WITH SONG....
DEAR MR JESUS FRIEND
I CALL ON YOU TODAY
PLEASE TAKE THIS SORROW
AND CAST IT ALL AWAY..............
YOU,RE THE ONLY FRIEND I HAVE
THAT TRULY UNDERSTANDS,
WHERE MY HEART IS COMING FROM
SO PLEASE LORD HOLD MR HAND....
CHORUS.....
WRITTEN BY ANN HART ,JAN 25TH 2004
COPYRIGHT,NL CANADA
The Gift of God is Eternal Life.
annhart2000@yahoo.com
Website http://www.poetrypoem.com/cocoannspoems
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Form:
"When I was a kid my dad left me in a bad way .... he was
in the lives of my sisters and brothers but he wasn't in mine."
Quote by - Beth Hart
Her voice has an innate, inborn, visceral grittiness
dusty, raspy, raw with emotions of pain, aching, torment
and agony, an unstained contralto deep and low, and you
get lost in her voice, gliding on the waves of life with her
her name, Beth Hart, an American blues musician and singer
Born in 1972, Elizabeth (Beth) Hart is from California, USA
at 4 years old she played the piano concentrating on classical
music, like Bach and Beethoven but as she got older she
was playing artists like Etta James, Otis Redding, and Led Zeppelin
she has a magical voice like Janis Joplin and Tina Turner combined
As a young teen she was singing in open mic nights
and was playing clubs at fifteen, in 1993 band search she won
best female vocalist but her success went nowhere as she
became drug addicted, she spent all her winnings and hit bottom
even spent time in a psych ward for bi-polar and drug addiction
Beth has had ups and downs and she managed to have lots of hits
too many to list in this poem, but there are many hits that I fav
like LA Song, Don't Explain, Am I The One and many, many more
she collaborated with Joe Bonamassa and went on tour with him
and together they had hits, she also collaborated with Jeff Beck
Beth controls her addictions with religion and meditation now.
Joe said in an interview," I am totally knocked out by Beth. Here
is a lady who's acting like I'm the cool one and meanwhile I'm thinking
Man, she's got it all ... the next Janis Joplin . . the real deal, you know."
Random lyrics
War In My Mind
by Beth Hart
hollerin' all the time
black in my soul
and its ugly when I cry
there is a war in my soul
blood on the wall
hiding
making love to the
war in my mind
_____________________
May 09, 2023
Poetry/Bio/It's Ugly When I Cry
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1546-229-09
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Beth Hart Inspiration
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged05/09/2023
First Place
#What's_love
When I wish to have someone with my whole being but not knowing how to pour my heart to them, doubts and fear to be burnt, rejected and not sharing the same sentiment, when I burn inside, battling my own demons of love, loving what's before me, wishing to touch, to whisper in her ears but trapped inside myself
Hoping she would one day see through me, break the walls suffocating my heart, notice that I'm burning, burning for her
When I can't sleep at night, tossing and turning, strangled by wonders of insecurity and fear, fearing for one day to wake up and they be nowhere near to talk to, to share with, to smile with
Fearing someone might snatch her out of my reach, out of my wishes and hope, hoping and dying from inside, questions pilling up, bloating and weighing heavy on my mind and heart,
Dawn to dusk, thinking and dreaming of what if's, it draining peace out of me. She be near to see, closer to touch and attached so deep, permanent in my every thought and smile
Wishing but shackled, shackled by what's beyond my abilities, hoping but restricted by what I alone can't change. Looking through my soul, fireworks forever painting my face with floods of joy,
her edges, her smile, her laughter, from toe to skull, bowing to her throne of beauty, please don't pull me out of this ecstasy
Constantly at war with my own spirit, but nature dragging me back to being human, and I realise with every encounter and her presence that indeed I am human, before all
Wanna say I think I love you, I think, for so many uncertainties have passed through my life and a little hope of certainty remaining, hart to convince my mind that I'm in love, with you
Said; what's love, for its meaning constantly get lost inside me, the grounds are way too ravished and unstable to be certain at all, what's love? Is it the tiny thoughts of her that leaves my mind embraced with overwhelming joy
What's love? My heart asks, my mind run amok, this question takes away everything out of me, I just wanna love, if this how love feels, then I'm in love, hoping to never ask ever, what's love
#Poetic_Ink
Why Gulliver Doesn’t Travel Anymore
C. G. Hart
i’m just one of many. No—
just one, trying to be one, of many.
an embryo in the belly of an ant
if ants were able to carry that weight.
I unfurl my folded flesh
in order to sail to Lilliput.
refused customs entry—for I had cracked
the other end of my breakfast egg.
my mooring at Brobdingnag lasted
until I bragged about bullying others
with our politics and endless wars.
a giant faux pas, making me feel small.
hiking through Kicking Horse Pass
into the fields of Houyhnhnms
tranquility blows a kiss of harmony
to an old mare of wisdom and grace—
while grazing on the sheaves of pure reason.
but my thoughts of staying were squashed.
Yahoos flipped the pasture to a pig pen.
snouts rooting greed and corruption,
off-gassing deliberate ignorance.
sails caught wind of the methane gas.
I raced away.
on Glubbdubdrib, leis hung round my neck
made of flowers of fentanyl and Xylazine—
an addictive floral fragrance lifting me higher.
no wonder we moved like zombies.
all so magical until I tore them off.
recovering, a bright light pierced my pupils—
the brilliance of the Laputans’ light:
math, music and astronomy—
ignoring everyone, everything—
an illumination, sun-bright.
a magnifying glass burns thought—like ants.
at Balnibarbi, fame-chasing scientists
tried to extract sunlight from cucumbers—
to be stored for later use.
they tried building houses from the roof down—
ground-breaking absurdity.
on Luggnagg, home of the Struldbrugs,
birthday candles were outlawed as a fire hazard—
talk about having your cake and eating it too!
birthday card verses spell a lifetime dream,
keeping the eternal birthday candles lit.
wrinkles are carbon dated for age.
elders dot the landscape as mounds of skin.
Halts & Son Funeral Home, long abandoned—
the island mortality rate is zero,
and will always be.
I pulled up anchor, craving an ending
after endless birthday cake, ad nauseam.
it’s time to blow out my adventure—
try to be more ant-like.
without the colony.
On the forest edge young beautiful and wild though you call singing of love, so subtly mild with your long dark locks you offer caress Doe’s eyes all a mist and cleaving breast So often, did I failed the test when I was young leaping upon chance take the dance then run On the forest edge young beautiful and wild though you call singing, so inviting you smiled Growing wiser in this world of so many tracks some to better days, some you never come back, So now I know where I and you have trod behind I see skin deep beauty something odd On the forest edge young beautiful and wild I reject you now, your offer of love is standing wiled So the younger may learn not to follow your wind rose Show them who you are a wolf wearing deer clothes Tearing many a young men’s heart, running like a hart singing of love so subtly mild, smiling teeth bloody tart On the forest edge young beautiful and wild mended heart running true for I am God’s child
* DARREN SMITH* 1971---2006
KEEPING YOUR MEMORY ALIVE
ONE YEAR AND COME AND SWIFTLY GONE
TO THAT THAT ONE YEAR AGO,
WHEN I GOT THE NEWS I ALWAYS DREADED
AND IT RIPPED MY HEART AND SOUL.
MY TEARS ARE STILL FRESH AS ON THAT DAY
YOUR LIFE WAS SUDDENLY TOOK AWAY.
THINGS ARE NOT THE SAME ANYMORE NOW
SINCE THAT DAY YO WENT AWAY.
SOMEDAYS I FEEL MY HEART IS HEALING GOOD
AND OTHER DAYS I JUST DONT CARE,
WHEN I THINK OF ALL THE PAIN YOU SUFFERED
MY HEART GETS FULL OF DESPAIR.
I REALLY MISS YOU DARREN MY PRECIOUS SON
AND I TRY TO STAY RALLY STRONG,
BUT SOMETIMES I FIND IT SO VERY HARD
WHEN I WONDER WHAT WENT WRONG.
THIS WORLD IS GETTING VERY BAD NOW DARREN
THERES DESTRUCTION EVERYWHERE,
THE LOVE AND COMPASSION IS GONE FROM LIFE
AND THE BURDENS ARE HARD TO BARE.
KNOWING THAT YOU ARE IN HEAVEN WITH JESUS
HAS HELPED ME TO GET THROUGH,
AND JUST KNOWING SOMEDAY WE WILL MEET AGAIN
HAS EASE MY HEARTACHE TO.
I NEVER GOT A CHANCE TO GIVE YOU A HUG
AND NO CHANCE TO SAY GOOD BYE,
AND NOW ONE YEAR LATER I DONT UNDERSTAND
THE REASON YOU HAD TO DIE.
I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE YOU DARREN
AND HAVE YOUR MEMORIES STORED IN MY HEART,
AND THEY WILL NEVER FADE AWAY,
FOR I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE THE START.
AND SOMEDAY SOON I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN
AND THEN WE WILL PART NO MORE
WHEN WE REACH THAT HOME UP YONDER
GODS GREAT ETERTNAL SHORE.
WRITTEN BY ANN HART,JULY 19TH 2007
IN MEMORY OF MY PRECIOUS DARREN
THAT WAS MURDERED IN JULY OF 2007
COPYRIGHTED
* I MISS YOU DARREN *
Form:
The aches and pain I fill on my feet, is of wear and tear felt way down deep,
from birth till today, I never seen them this way,
two things that moved me the most, two things I thought were gross,
they've been there in the cold of winter, frost bit and splintered,
exposed to the summer heat, never once did I cover my feet,
brought me home drunk and a mess, climbed the mountains and life's little tests,
they carried me off to my first and last day of school, went with me every time we moved,
was there when I walked miles for my first kiss, even there when I missed,
helped me stand when I took a fall, for them being there I couldn't crawl,
they took me to great heights and times, was even there when I committed a crime,
held me up as I watched my children be born, & moms funeral as I morned,
helped me teach my son to play ball, to tell him hold your head up stand tall,
they helped me lift my baby girl, to hold her point and show her the world,
they carried me to all of there events, never once did I fill the dents,
the scares,the bruising, never once did they indicate the misusing,
they've been cut, dry and poked, yet stood me up every time never once did they revoke,
now years later I fill them cry out in pain, when I stand I fill the strain,
I hear them as they crack, I fill them when I sit and relax,
in life there is so many things that help you move on, love,friendship, even a song,
not till were old do we see, that through time we couldn't do it with out feet,
they were there when we took our first step, walked and crept,
they helped us skip,jump,and run, to my feet I owe you this one,
"Life's been great, fun, romantic, hart wrenching, darkened and sweet,
as it comes to and end I can say I did it all on my own two feet."
man, I wonder what I could write about my hands: )?
Lenny was 30 and still living with his old cheese, everyone called, Lenny’s mum.
She was always on his Cadbury Snack to go find a trouble and strife for a chum.
“Geez, leave off mum, I’ve been looking down at the Punchbowl rubbity Dub”.
“Well Lenny, go to the grab a granny at the Rissole, Fridý night will ya luv”.
Friday came, Lenny put on his best bag of fruit and fired up his old VS Dunny Door.
With his pay in his sky rocket as he hit the frog and toad with the peddle to the floor.
Mum put some of dad’s old brill cream in his Fred Astaire before he left the house.
“Be good Lenny, me little china plate, if ya need a lift home give me a Wally Grout”.
Jenny was on the rock ‘n’ roll so she saved up her oxford scholars for a big night out.
She wasn’t flash to look at, with her bifocal monkey’s arses but she had a good jam tart.
She walked into the Rissole, tilting her leg as she let rip a decent Royce Hart.
Her dad would’ve said, “A bit more choke and it would’ve made you start”.
Jenny met Lenny at the near ‘n far, knowing he was giving her the old Captain Cook.
Introductions made and Lenny thought she was a bit of alright, as he had a second look.
They hit it off after Jenny’s Third vodka and Lenny’s fifth schooner of pigs ear.
Feasting on bar snacks of party dogs eyes, Jenny dripping the dead horse in Lenny’s beer.
A couple of young blokes walk up to Jenny and tried to give her Reg Grundies a flick.
Jenny started throwing cut lunches, smashing him on the Lionel Rose, then gave him a kick.
Lenny intervened, saying, “We don’t want any froth and bubble.” Before thing got nasty.
He took Jenny outside screaming, “He’s got a face like a half eaten pasty”.
And that’s how Lenny and Jenny met, Lenny’s mum was happy seeing Lenny with stars in his mud pies.
They got cash ‘n carried, had a couple of billy lids, that loved to eat burgers and fries.
It’s not at all romantic, but that’s how most Aussie love stories go.
Lenny and Jenny together forever, They’re mates most of us will know.