Long Hasten Poems
Long Hasten Poems. Below are the most popular long Hasten by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hasten poems by poem length and keyword.
Hope goes off,
Grace sets in.
Time says bye,
Heaven comes near.
Flood parades trough;
Looming mistakes chagrin...
Courage don't cry,
Hasten hearts cheer.
Mind heave sigh,
Late warning waves.
Goodbye draw closer,
Fearful lost night.
Complain moves nigh,
Fans digging graves.
Even the grocer-
"Formation isn't right."
Everyone with ideas,
Of his own.
The coach's wrong
Formation hits back.
Fans better corneas,
Are off cornerstone.
True ones belong,
To hopeless comeback.
Up Man United!
I enjoyed it;
End so excited,
Arguably opponent admit.
I spent my day shopping for rubies.
There are those who love to shop
for this, that, and for one thing or other,
and they will not stop until they drop.
I am not one of them and rather certain never will be,
but something very unusual happened to me today.
Something of a liberating nature arrested and captured me,
overwhelming me with energy for reasons I hasten to say.
I'm just a regular guy, rather withdrawn and shy.
I own a modest house and drive a working man's car.
I'm contented but will confess that my dream car is a Volvo.
But I tell you honestly, ruby shopping today was a bit bizarre.
I was invited to the home of the richest man in the world
Whose name perhaps you know, but I shall not reveal.
I best pause and tell you that this was just a late-night dream.
At random, he picked ME, gave his credit card to ME, Bill.
He made it clear and said, "No limits, and price is not a problem".
And then he said to me, "The ruby you buy will be for your wife".
I stood there numb and speechless, thinking, "I must be dreaming".
Nothing like this had ever happened to me in my entire life.
I have reluctantly shopped for shoes, slacks, toys, and cars.
Even the necessary shopping gives me a cause for anxiety.
I must say that my wife has always done the shopping for me.
I hardly believe it was I today making purchases like high society.
I must say that every part of me lit up like a 4th of July sky.
I was thinking of only one person as I headed off for the store.
I knew that my wife likes jewelry, but this was unbelievable.
I felt like the peace of a river; like gentle waves rolling to the shore.
070620PSCtest, First Line Prompt-3, Julia Ward
Wems Henry Temmy
I enjoy lovely moments on bed
That bathe my soul in awesome dream
My eyes never go red
For rising from bed is really a gleam
Adedokun Youngjay
At early dawn
My eyes open gradually
When coming from holy ghost land
Where live seems beautiful
Through my everyday canoe.
Wems Henry Temmy
I am flying in my dream
I relinquish to embrace reality
Try flying on high... I scream
Here is a moment of my liberality
Been awake is such an awesome relieve in earth's stream
Adedokun Youngjay
In this journey I path to,
The journey it seems I stay indefinitely
After I saw many dreams put in effects
To me is the moment of elated
As a cock crow to remind me of reality
As I behold my phone nearly closed to my pillow
It's eighteen minutes to 5 o'clock.
Wems Henry Temmy
Its light hits my world softly
I condole it in guise to dwell in my heart acutely
It drives my heart wide open yet can't fathom broader
It should have been enough a tease than a blunt say actually,
Let's be real, dream isn't a good joker
Adedokun Youngjay
The dawn breaks,
Hastily picture drama of the day
How hasten we tend
To make the bread of the day
And what to gain from it again.
Wems Henry Temmy
Wems gym every blessed morning
Standing on his heel at ease to heal his stiffened posture
In his own little world alone; on exercise foaming
Sitting up his spinal column activates his alter
Else praying would entice dosing
Waking with Youngjay is a treat
You have to gear up in each second
Taking up the tracking in pursuit of fitness
What more will the morning be without workout
That's the blessing a functioning lung each morning retreats
Note: Morning Trail is a duet between Adedokun Youngjay and Wems Henry Temmy.
Well, I read in the paper today that Senator Feinstein has again gone berserk!
With the plethora of problems we have, she wants to give chickens a perk!
Never mind that millions of souls are out of work and on food stamps rely!
She opts to pursue the plight of chickens ignoring the needs of we small "fry!"
Seems she deems chickens' cages far too small for them to flap their wings!
The Constitution provides for freedom of speech and religion among other things,
But danged if I was aware that chickens had any such Constitutional rights!
This is taking our precious freedoms to unexplored and dangerous heights!
Perhaps "Maam" Feinstein is wooing votes from chicken pressure groups,
Crying "foul" for the right to improve living conditions in their cozy coops!
Her legislation increases fowls' living area to 144 square inches of space!
She deems the way egg-laying hens now exist is an utter disgrace!
Let me hasten to say that for all of God's creatures I have great compassion,
But the nation is headed for Hades! Must the quandary of hens be our passion?
Her statute requires eggs to be labeled so we'll know how hens were raised.
And the size of henhouses must be increased! La-de-da and the Lord be praised!
Senator, may I suggest that you find something more productive to do,
Such as protecting our borders and providing for the hungry and homeless too!
I don't recall that chickens can vote! (Perhaps that is open for future debates!)
Yours is a "half-cracked" plan being dished out on our overly-saturated plates!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Touch, translucent, delicate, and sparse,
awareness fleeting and fragile
Treasure of treasures Lo and Mark,
seeker born quick and agile
Peripheral only, inward glancing,
laughter at clumsy gestures of life
a silhouette dancing around, and beyond,
the point of life’s sharpest knife.
I am a dalliance at your disposal,
significant only in ego’s arousal,
clinging to fringes as bee’s to aroma,
cracking like mud in the heat of the day.
Unyielding struggle to reach the return,
hasten the kiss of the flame without burn.
Feel, yet not touch - deliver, yet stay,
becoming both twilight and dawn of the day.
Bring me my head and deliver my heart,
cast not an ending from out which to start.
I have felt burst and bewilderment channeled,
danced ever close to the mist of the morn
I have been dazed in the blindness of passion
and from this I now have been born.
Endless longing, deepest ache,
glimpse of glory, crack of strife.
I, who have held the briefest story,
lay baffled and bleeding on the grounds of my life.
A place without struggle no silence or pain,
between birth of religion and thought before stain,
where feelings of affectations cry false,
and feelings of coarseness disdain,
where feelings priori shadowed and subtle
give birth to the lie egos feign.
There is no lie in the light that is life,
for the dark who without is true;
the meaning of struggle and search for rebirth
is the silence becoming you.
Private O'Toole was only eighteen when he marched off to war.
He glanced back to see his tearful Mother standing in the door.
Across the way he heard the mournful wail of the midnight train,
Waiting to hasten him away from his Hoosier home adding to his pain!
He was deep in thought as the train slowly glided from the station,
Recalling that his Grandpa and Dad had fought in wars of liberation!
He felt a twinge of pride, yet he would miss the love and warmth of home,
Tinkering with his '37 Ford and roaming the fields with his dog, Jerome!
He leaned over the ship's rail watching San Francisco's lights slowly wane.
Like countless heroes before him, he wondered if he'd ever see them again.
The sergeant told him he was taking a cruise to Korea to stem the Red Tide,
And to just settle back, to always wear his dog tags and enjoy the ride!
Private O'Toole was a combat infantryman and was taught to kill.
His unit fought courageously on Korea's infamous Pork Chop Hill.
Artillery pounded them day and night and he fell with an anguished cry!
His remains were never found - they were taken by death's furtive scythe.
His dear old Mother opened the Western Union telegram with dread.
"We regret to inform you that your son is missing in action!" it read.
A Gold Star Flag was displayed by the grieving Mother in her windowpane,
Reminding all of the precious gift she gave the nation in a war so insane!
Placed No. 4 in Susan Burch's "Missing" Contest - March 2012
i get a wrapped around and kept
while my wetness is swept
in and around your winding curves
i flow over you with an urge
i slow at certain points to keep a pace
then hasten again with beauty and grace
admiring the strength in my stride
you feel my waves from inside
i hold you close then let you go
and we dance together in the snow
through the flowers we make new
there would be no me without you
in the sun we lay, kissing each other's cheek
side by side ever so meek
then in the fall we settle down
as the colored leaves dust the ground
and i fall back into your love
as the fluid river flowing above
*Look at the stars, look at how they
shine for you and everything you do ...
You're a jewel, bereft compare
Hewn of star stuff, rich and rare
Uniquely shaped to beautify
Adorning, bright, a yawning sky
Seeded concept - bosom's bloom
Sparked to essence in life's womb
Perfecting flaws as humans do
Yet no one else, the perfect You
So tremble not with mortal awe
If fed resplendent, virtue's maw
Meant to hasten priceless wings
Borne through time's meanderings
Yearn to pierce the great expanse
And twirl to dust, your final dance
That latent shore of Heaven's sand
This precious life is yours, in hand ...
This precious life ... is YOURS.
* From the song "Yellow" by Coldplay
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Famous Poetic Lines 3 - Love Songs" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
The Vote
The lights are out, the night is still,
The window’s ajar, there’s a sudden chill.
Goosepimples multiply all over my skin,
I know what I’ve done is a terrible sin.
The demons are singing deep inside my head,
I might not sleep when I do turn in for bed.
First, I’ll sit by the fire and put up my feet,
I hasten to move from this very seat.
The same demons shout “Why? Why? What you’ve done is insane,
I hope you realise you’ve caused insurmountable pain.
You had the easy choice, but you cocked up instead,
And now we’ll have more times of living in dread.
I can’t believe myself, I thought I knew who to vote,
And now I feel like a scrawny little scroat.
I now see it was my single vote that put those fools in power,
I really deserve to be locked up inside the tower.
Getting better
I am sure that you have been told
Stop in bed when you have a cold
Pinch your nose if you get a bleed
Press it hard and it stops at a greater speed
Car
There’s nothing worse I think by far
Than needing the loo whilst in the car.
You’re miles away from the nearest stop
I wish I hadn’t drank all of that pop.
There’s nothing else that you can do
When in the car and needing the loo.
And eventually there’s no feeling better
As when your trouser leg starts getting wetter.
Graveyard shift
Come work for us, the interviewer said,
I didn’t realise I’d be digging graves for the dead.
Come work for us and you’ll soon have it made,
We’ll even give you your very own spade.
Work hard for your bonus – show everyone your worth
Now It’s 3am and I’m left digging all the earth.
Once the funeral is over and everyone’s at the wake,
It’s time to re-fill as my back begins to ache.
For each burial we do we’ll get a bonus for our prize,
If only they knew I’m the serial killer in disguise.
My darling sweet, wake to me!
A beautiful melody
is your morning treat.
Wake and hear the euphony
coming from a leafy tree.
Look, my darling sweet,
and a goldfinch you will see.
In his trill is poetry
sounding joy replete.
Hasten to your window seat.
Look outside and see dawn greet
you with its first ray.
Rise, my love, and with bare feet,
through the fields of amber wheat
we will run today.
Come follow me. I entreat
you. Hasten, love; time is fleet.
Darling, don’t delay!
There is nothing to waylay
us. This is a golden day.
Where marigolds gleam
in the meadow we will play.
Then down where the cattails sway
by a sun-lit stream,
all the afternoon, we’ll stay.
Come with me, love. Come away
to my golden dream.
2012