Long Hearty Poems
Long Hearty Poems. Below are the most popular long Hearty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hearty poems by poem length and keyword.
There is a thin line between the laugh and the cry.
The laugh is often perfected by one who has silenced her crying.
The laugh is sometimes a ruse, a ready weapon to camouflage pain.
When the laugh is hearty, loud, disturbing even, it can be masking a horror.
Do not be fooled by the laughing; these people are often hurting more than any of the others.
Get to know them. Ask “how are you really feeling?”
Do not be surprised if they laugh, pooh-poohing you.
If you persist they may tell you that they do not have any emotions.
Many children raised in the “olden days” were never allowed to have them.
Feelings were shut off in childhood, by parents who could only accept the laughing.
Sometimes the best clowns, the ones who keep us in constant stitches
Are doing so, to keep themselves from throwing a rope over a rafter.
Sometimes they break down, finally, and jump out the eighteen floor window.
Do not be fooled by the laughing.
It can be even more disturbing
Than a perpetual pouty face,
Or an angry arm-crossed bully-ish attitude.
Be aware of the laughing.
It is often a mask to cover the worst pain.
Robin Williams and John Belushi knew this.
Admired by many from afar,
especially in jam-packed bar;
must include a fair derriere.
How he stirred his tea is his affair.
Any amount of shove and push,
like a beating about the bush,
will drive him up sanity’s wall.
It’ll make his coming out to stall.
More than the sum total of parts.
Eyebrows are raised at broken hearts.
Like flotsam, affairs jettisoned
and much of the jetsam yet to stoned.
The episode at Walt’s party,
back in the day of drink hearty,
where Mickey and Minnie romped
on the screen amongst feet stomped.
Giving his due: He’s debonair
and goes through life without a care.
His Free Will not ever questioned,
and compassion not sessioned.
If passion weighed up against norm
and he’s expected to conform,
what message do others relate?
Their self-loathing must abate.
When life's drudgery is pulling me down,
I love the atmosphere of a party.
And whether a nerd or the office clown
I like a jokester who parties hearty.
What's funnier than a drunken buddy
weaving from one brouhaha to the next?
And if fights break out and things get bloody,
at least it's not done under false pretext.
Partiers are a happy-go-lucky lot
who live in the now; they find themselves in.
And the crazy ones are eagerly sought;
for they're the zing that lets the fun begin.
Partiers are friends I want to be around;
when life's drudgery is pulling me down.
OUR VENTURE
We met, interacted, liked each other
New zeal flashed on daily monotony
We got united and came too closer.
Now we are starting our joint journey.
We are travelling on uneven rocky path,
bubbling with restless reckless blowing breeze.
We stumble, kick pebbles quick in wrath,
also demount rumbling rocks just at ease.
Showers of rains, flying veils of dark grey cloud
Thunder storms chase and roar with lightning flash
Joyful journey in serene solitude and crazy crowd
Both prepared to confront conflict or clash.
We are not dreamy in deep dense romance
Our love is brave, bold, gallant, courageous.
To run speedy for tough task or hard race,
joint journey goes gorgeous and glamorous.
Two hearts can overcome any hindrance
Always dynamic, we hate to be stagnant
proceed zealous on duet dependence.
Competent confident vigorous vibrant.
On mother Earth we feel folic to stroll.
Up above, blazing Sun dazzling on sky.
We are green with revolutionary soul.
Joint venture erecting our heads high.
We don’t indulge to sink in emotion,
Ruthless truth tuned in hearty harmony.
In dark, we proceed for exploration,
Both perfectly fit for joint journey.
02/18/21
'Open Poetry 2 ' Contest by Charlotte Puddifoot
At the centre of the sea
A calm a quiet a still
All commotions at bay
There we us lay
Just you and me
At the centre of the sea
At the centre of the sea
No greed no malice
No need of outward polish
No call for any police
Just seated face to face
Turquoise thoughts of grace
Just you and me
At the centre of the sea
No noise no commotion
Despite the waves of ocean
No convulsive motion
Just hearty devotion
Pink tulips of emotion
No sales promotion
Just a tiny transaction
Of purple peace and bliss
Eyes closed a kiss
.
September 2, 2019
Silence Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
A fresh breeze that loves to drape all around,
And give hearty embrace to every heart,
A bird forever of drifting orbit,
Ready, lifelong and more to meander.
I drift, to drift is my inane nature,
To me, an inch of movement how so vague
Is better than a mile of intention,
World, called jagat is what moves forever.
We all within a vast sphere, set on sail,
Drift in an ocean of uncertainty,
By no means can one call me exception,
I drift unperturbed, letting things happen.
Time itself seems adrift in this vast space,
And human mind, shifting sands of desert,
Here today and tomorrow all be gone,
Nature laughs at the motionless stagnant.
And who knows where one drifts in universe?
We only know of our diurnal orbit
And that of our journey around the sun,
Who knows what precisely sun’s orbit is?
Who, how it whirls around in Milky Way?
Where and how our galaxy moves in space,
And many a movement we know the least,
To drift seems all life’s utter destiny!
And drifting devoid of aim’s no failure,
But serendipitous discovery,
Not just for me, for all manner of born,
So, never once give me that dubious look.
And triumphant, let me drift with a smile,
Like a wisp of mist on a windless day,
Give me a boat and an uncharted sea,
And freedom of soul to drift as I wish.
Naught compares getting lost and get a lift,
And I value this Nature’s priceless gift!
_____________________________
Musings | 03.05.2008, revised March 2025 |
Shema ("Listen")
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...
Consider: is this a "man"
who slogs through the mud,
who knows no peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or his "no" lies dead?
Consider: is this is a "woman"
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?
Consider that such horrors have indeed been!
I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.
Repeat them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.
Primo Michele Levi [1919-1987] was an Italian Jewish chemist, scientist, Holocaust survivor, writer, journalist and poet. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems. He is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in Nazi-occupied Poland. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Italian, Jewish, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject, race, racist, racism, man, men, woman, women, house, home
Scaly bones, smelly bones, bones all the way through.
Old bones, bold bones, green bones, bones for me and you.
Bones rattling around in a skeleton’s un-skin,
Bones dancing and prancing, and galloping in.
We laughed and we hooted and we hollered and more
When we saw those silly bones dancing on our green floor.
The teacher was irritated, as it was the third day they had
Taken us hostage, encouraging us to be big and quite bad.
We kindergarten lovelies were shaking and laughing, lying on the floor.
Happy skeleton was laughing too, his skull popped off and flew out the door.
The teacher rolled her eyes, she knew a teachable moment when she saw one.
“The leg bone is connected to the foot bone,” she started to sing, oh, what fun!
We sang ‘dem bones’ loud and proud, Max, Jack, and Molly and me.
We sang them all day, big and loud. We sang hearty ‘til
A quarter ‘til three.
My life
My own life,
Shunning any more strife,
Yearning to live my own special way,
Far from possessiveness that longing could betray,
Living life to its full until last breath is the final goal,
Passion inevitably is master of my body and hearty soul !!
Written Dec25th, 2014
Poet- Dr. Upma A. Sharma
For nette's contest "Enchantment through a prism"
Theme title -5
Awarded 7th place
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. Psalm 139:13-14 ESV
HONEYMOON BABY October 7 1960
Bittersweet day, my birthday.
My dad has fallen
apart — thoughts of his angel, my mom.
Other years, cheers,
hearty birthday song —
a telephone duet.
Dad’s choked up,
today.
I’m their firstborn,
their honeymoon baby.
His honeymoon “baby”
in heaven, the past six months.
Still I will celebrate —
I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
It’s my birthday.
No one gave me up
and I will never give up
sharing the love
of the One
who knitted me together
in my mother’s womb.
All is well with my soul.
10/7/2021