Long Haste Poems
Long Haste Poems. Below are the most popular long Haste by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Haste poems by poem length and keyword.
You ask of me silence as I Rome
Saint peters square gathering hymns
beneath Di Vatican where Satan sits
in solitude a prisoner of haste awaiting
a time to live a time to give malice a
wretched sea urchins filled with rapture
borrowed by solace envy kackling carny
unfolding aimlessly becoming nothing in the
eyes of God sending chills of fear weathered
under the soil sandals of the child of God wrath
behold the tyranny engraved over the watchers
minds eye calling to pontius pilates consciousness
professing goodness portraying the death of Christ
from a morbid dream shared by his wife come to me
now seek truth return void from your sinful actions
hatred devoured love conquered an yet I am still here
Who new a piece of paper -
Could carry the weight of my woes.
I was but a child when my heart first spilt,
Words in the back of a notebook,
There was no media back then,
Only paper and pen,
No one to show,
But it wasn’t for show,
I wasn’t aware it was even for me,
So i missed the first time ....... that my feelings could see.
I filled that notebook with haste,
Poems of a younger self,
25 years ago,
Back then I didn’t know,
Didn’t understand the point of those feelings,
I had now idea that those poems were healing.
Then I entered a time of release,
I wanted it all,
For years I rebelled,
Nothing withheld,
........But I didn’t write,
Lazy days and party nights,
Everything felt alright,
There was no need to write,
But those days were short - looking back,
Now i know who I am,
These years have wisened my mind,
It’s a quieter place I find,
Writing keeps an order,
Creates a silent border,
Between whats real and what could be,
Im indebted to what it gives me,
The healing of the act,
From thought to write to read,
Is such a positive impact,
That helps so much be freed,
If only that young boy had realised,
All those years back then,
The strength of his piece of paper,
And the power of his pen.
The rose petals color drained,
as my eyes tearfully pained,
over how I failed to maintain
A bed worthy of thorns contained
No gardens lush, where beauty bloomed,
Unyielding, lost, my dark heart entombed,
Each fragrant breath, putrids perfumed,
Now, just whisps of a florist doomed
The dry thorns, razor sharp, a warning strong,
Guard deadly blooms where love doesn't belong,
In my haste, I wrought the bouquet wrong,
and watched as life was reaped, swiftly by the throng
With every year, a memory fades,
Of sunlight's kiss in gentle glades,
Can roots revive in shaded trades,
Or will we mourn what time evades?
Oh, teach me how to plant anew,
With tender hands, a heart that's true,
To grow of the earth in a vibrant hue,
and cherish thorns whose sting l never knew
In every bud, a tale very few conceive,
Of broken dreams, of hearts that grieve,
For the Rose, it speaks of love's reprieve,
In petals, soft, dare we believe.
STAMPEDE
Beneath the moon’s pale, a requited glow,
A hyperbolic crowd begins to grow.
The sphere is aired with fear and haste,
A storm of bodies, my qualms displaced.
A million cry, a sudden shove,
To venerate order, stripped of love.
Feet like thunder, hearts like drums,
Chaos shouts, and silence comes.
The pressing of souls, the crush of skin,
A pastiche, none had sought in a fin.
Breath is stolen, hope forgotten,
The rising tide with a brogue, spares no one.
Dreams are trampled, testimonial fade,
In lingerie where the lost are laid.
The refulgent souls biding, now let go,
Beyond the weight of sorrow’s plow.
The dirge lingers, sharp and cold,
A tragedy has drubbed vast to behold.
Each hero a story, left untold,
Each step a grief that won’t grow old.
Oh, let us pause and learn the cost,
The price of life for rice swiftly lost.
For in the rush, the fray, the fight,
We drown the snivel stars, we dim the night.
The paroxysm still slaps my imagination,
They left eagerly to be cut by illusion;
I’m still raddled in the hands of rain,
For the psephology sprayed like grains.
In my wander of syncretism, I sigh!
Man’s search for food via the mild,
Has garnished life out there a tame,
A radical shawl for a renewed shame!
to get to the top where the high rollers play
you must always seek sunshine to make all the hay
life becomes one big office that you never can leave
never let failure derail you and always believe
the route to the top offers all you desire
the dreams of great fortune gets you higher and higher
focused on the next task and blind to all thats around
no desire for love except the love of the pound
no sympathy shown for the mentally ill
for the sick or the lonely did sorry you feel
so now is your time to be taught whats inside
and restore your compassion and be rid of your pride
Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes
and clever in their own sight. and values only his buys
be ready to fall and in sight be a sinner
and understand that the riches doesnt make a lifes winner
whilst your eyes will become wide and your heart become soft
a fall on to your knees sees you hands rise aloft
the visions of all that you walked past in haste
no help did you offer fearing time you would waste
mankind will be brought low, and each man will be humbled;
the arrogant eyes will be lowered. and their mortar be crumbled
now pay attention my son and trust your saviour your lord
as he rids the worlds hatred and peace will be restored
your tunnelll vision ambition has been laden with frills
the cars and the mansion as the bank account fills
no thought for man women or beast just yourself as the only
had all the trappings of gold but success shared with lonely
When I analyze the lyrics
I see everything that the world mimics
It’s the easiest of diagnostics
That unravels the mystery of these mystics
How we tamper with the sacred relics
Cutting and stitching tapestries from solid fabrics
Watching while your hearing wastes
Numbing nourishment out of your tastes
You try to keep up and so forsake your rest
Stretched to the limit, you have no zest
And you wither in the haste
For at high cost you copy and paste
Who lived well if not your fathers before you
With timeless counsel they try to hand you
But the old gold you trade for the new dew
The rich color you trade for a pale hue
Forfeiting and sidestepping blessings well due
And then flood your tears on the pew
As the world pulls its strings
It matters what a man sings
If about worldliness and things
Onto the strangling cords he clings
If to God his longing, belonging and belongings
Then he is one among priests and kings
K. Muitherero
Cats aren't little sweeties,
when they catch butterflies
flying low on dogwood trees.
Mary and James chase
after them stepping on flowers,
and falling down in their haste.
Mother and dad come out,
and start to yell to call them back,
and they still run past the hut.
Dogs bark at frogs with an unsteady leap,
when they stare at their puppies
huddled in their deep sleep.
Spring, summer and fall
are true delights in the North,
where the weather is never too dull.
Every afternoon, Jim and Derick
climb the fir thirty feet tall,
they stop halfway and vomit.
Dogs and cats quarrel and get wild,
kids gather around to support their team,
betting nickles on this harmless fight.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
My Amber dear, awake to me.
My madrigal has melody
in trills of the gold finch that you hear.
Awake to me, my Amber dear!
It’s dawn. Arise, my angel sweet.
Put golden slippers on your feet.
We’ll follow where our songbird flies.
My angel sweet. It’s dawn; arise!
We must make haste, my lovely lass,
to walk on glistening velvet grass.
A day like this we cannot waste.
My lovely lass, we must make haste!
A meadow waits, my cherished one.
Through sun-bright posies we shall run,
where dewy fragrance permeates.
My cherished one, a meadow waits!
I know a stream, my darling love,
a shining mountain sits above.
And water falls where gold fish gleam.
My darling love, I know a stream.
We’ll find a rock, oh, maiden fair,
where you can loose your yellow hair.
And please me more. . . unloose your frock!
Oh, maiden fair, we’ll find a rock.
My one true heart, do come away.
Beneath the falls this golden day,
pure pleasure will our love impart.
Do come away, my one true heart!
4/17/14 for the Colourful Verse Contest of Charlotte Puddifoot
(Just playing around with swap quatrain form,
imagining one of those guys from centuries ago trying
to woo his maiden!)
Little drops of sadness
falling from up high.
More numerous than the stars
that decorate the sky.
Every droplets a raindrop
and represents a word that was said in haste.
falling from a cold grey sky
they fill you full of hate.
There's no shelter from the approaching storm
when its words that rain on down.
Look to the horizon
as soon another day will dawn.
The sun was only hiding
behind the leaden skys
the anger will soon fade away.
As weather and emotions
can change from day to day.
You cannot hold a raindrop
without it melting away.
Try treating hated the exact same way.
OPPOSITE
In India, both slogans most common
at back of vehicles, specially lorry,
showing either ‘Blow’ or ‘Do not blow horn’.
‘Do not make haste’, Or, ’Make hurry’.
Opposite ideas! Which to follow on!
Once I noticed a funny slogan ’Sorry!
I will ignore, even if you blow horn.
03/12/17
Rhyming style a b a b a b a