Long Heeds Poems
Long Heeds Poems. Below are the most popular long Heeds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heeds poems by poem length and keyword.
My pen, as though wounded, bleeds,
Who on earth, its blood-flooding sound, heeds?
Tabula rasa papers turn pregnant,
Messages of peace-brim-filling excitement;
Midst clanging of shiny swords,
Who witnesses the wounded words?
Poetry is for lunatics, they say,
Might moves mountainous sway;
Blood should paint the world maps,
Dead should adorn the scull-caps;
Shells should illumine skyscrapers,
No podium for poetry-papers;
They march forward with philosophies such,
Though fear within, deadliest weapons they clutch;
Like monsters and vampires they fight,
Many, to Hades, take their flight;
Peace-poems, often, become wraps,
Of their not-so-hot-potato chaps;
My wounded heart, together with my pen, yearns,
Insane humans to realize their hate-churns;
Having battles lost and won,
Laurels of pride, heads adorn;
Losing wife, children, friends, kith-and-kin,
Sensory organs, like neon gas, brunt within;
Those survive try to trace and read the peace writings,
Die, ultimately, in perennial musings...!
28 March 2022
Finding love is our unsure heart’s goal as edged on by our confident souls.
Some journey through life with love as their primary dream, only to give up
after giving all to failures’ torturous theme. They may wish their constant
dream to unfold, but cannot befriend the lonely, dark hole that mocks the
intentions of their soul. For many, ‘tis when heart hopes completely dim that
fate itself delivers the right her or him.
When true love is meant to be, it shall appear and reward every lonely, fallen tear.
When true love wraps you in its infinite folds,
there is nowhere else you will need or wish to go.
When you truly love someone, you hold their dreams inside your prayers
and lay steppingstones to assist them there.
Grateful for the long-awaited task, you let love toss every mask you ever faked
for romance’s sake. Each past pretense may now relax, disappear and never
come back, for true love loves your truth and would never wish to see you
subdued. Real love wraps around the you that your life really grew.
Love grants the finest gift, a present of loving arms embracing all of you,
not despite, but because their heart knows all of you. Freely and without
hesitation, you give your body, heart, spirit, secrets and possessions, confident
none will ever be used as emotional weapons.
No matter any day’s design, love soothes all away when at night you lay
entwined. True love is two who mutually fulfill emotional needs, heeds fears
to see them eased and nurses hurts that may otherwise bleed.
Even in silence, love’s communication and awareness are at its finest. When
alone, at home, such love is happily content for together time never ceases
being time joyously spent.
When one is weak, one stays strong, for two in love alter leaning and being
leaned on.
Each the other seeks to please for your love’s smile gives back pleasurable
degrees. When in love, such smiles become your heart’s feed.
After time spent apart, love seeks and finds its prize in the other’s loving eyes.
When love is of truth’s seed,
two breaths become a single heartbeat,
pulsing as one, dual, soul-deep feed.
1. ? OK, I'm good to go ...
2. Satirical, ironic, quick wit, = critics fave +/-
3. Dad's magical, handcrafts a buck into luck plus 2 birds in a bush, $0.01
land + $0.99 houses--1950s+->. Mom's an honest woman, she married
Dad's $$ since she's a BIG spender--fed the starved, clothed the poor,
housed the homeless, OMG--oh, and Him too--He got the most.
4. The Word, its Exposure, and unafraid using ingenious efforts gifting His
truth to the masses. (Inked signs breath divine)
5. A past erases, a present tense being dealt, hopes in a future, and yon...
6. Lose those closest, here and there--bits of me, and the word just outright.
7. My publications grow, family successes, and talk of those pastime--in their
presence.
8. Time be toned down, time an instant's measurable, and time when they
say, "Good night," ... and it is.
9. USA's 50th State, Hawaii. Birthplace/Souper Tag Name, 'Hilo' (Sight may
affect pronunciation, High Low--an error. Its enunciation is, HEE-low.)
10. LAST NAME: (note the Haw'n accents)
WhatPleaserepeatyournameslowlyandpronouneitclearlythankyou
SUFFIX:
Iamsosorrymaybeweshouldtryspellingitstartingwiththefristalphabet
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ancestral ties to climes' worth, heeds adaptive skills mid moving change as focus stead our needs; rabbits to tusked boars, oysters to tiger sharks -- pets were a deterrent, as animals were downed. My family and I, absent to time and place, we had a white Labrador, Bananas, was dearly loved for 17 years.
Written: July 30th 2026 for a contest sponsored by Craig Cornish
***********
A single leaf across the hollow park—
unfolds its mesh to catch the shifting draft.
It glints above the stump’s decaying bark,
a fragile speck against the wooden shaft.
Through dappled light it rides the mossy air,
a quiet pilgrim seeking gentle ground.
It turns in circles, weightless, free of care,
and heeds no law the solemn trunks have found.
Yet now it falls, as all things must descend;
the forest waits to claim its fragile grace.
Its journey wanes, but still the boughs extend
a soft embrace to mark its resting place.
So brief a flight, yet through its downward wind,
The woods grow deep with truth it leaves behind.
I’m weak but He is strong
I’m lacking but He is all
I’m but a shadow falling in His light
His grace reminds me that love is alive
Inside the one who He has forgiven
One who follows His teaching and heeds His word
Listens to the whisper of kindness that inspires
Hearts to be stirred and souls to be on fire
For the One who is a guide to everyone who does abide
In the love that is salvation to the believer, the disciple
Of this Son, this King of Kings, this Savior born of love
I’m so fragile but He is fervent
I’m filled with fear but He is my courage
I’m like a faded flower in the field
While He is like a bright and resilient bloom
Thriving amid the faintest blossoms, beautiful
His grace pouring out joy through the soul
Who knows His love just grows and grows
Blessing those who know His mercy and generosity
Are part of the reflection of a compassion so alive
It silences doubt and keeps kindness raining down
On the heart of each believer, each one who knows
He is the way, the truth and the life – He is the bright
And morning sun, the dawn of a new life, a clean slate
A new start that will give a second chance to share faith
I’m so frail but He is so powerful
I’m nothing at all without Him and His gift
Of grace that glorifies His Holy name, with thanks
For the One who has given us everything
His heart, His love, His life and hope from above
Assuring the spirit that He will always be with me
A light penetrating the darkest dread, comforting
The soul who is fearful and anxious, worried about things
That only God who tells us to never worry can know about
Little things and big things, troublesome parts of life
That keep us bothered by concerns, the worst strife
But reminds the heart that prays that they need to say
One more prayer of faith, prayed from the soul of the one
Who believes and receives the comforting peace of grace
Poured out on hearts who listen to God’s reassurance
His help is but a prayer away and all we need to do is say…
Dear God, please help… make a way
His love and grace will not delay
Natural
Nature heeds God’s command, fulfilling His demand. It complies with full might against delaying blight. Such is shown by rain fall, dropping down along wall, cascading from heaven; or wind blowing, proven to humble trees down---breaking great buildings’ crown, always yielding with best to the Creator’s test. One great gift of nature showing obedience-venture is sun with its bright rays, warming well our great days, welcoming vibrantly… marked by mirth joyously midst photosynthesis at work to meet crisis, vanquishing food shortage for human’s advantage toward blest gratitude and praise-filled attitude. I do believe this fact, affirming nature’s act: yielding to divine will with each role to fulfill. So, when flash floods occur and then heat waves recur, who or what should be blamed? To answer, I’m ashamed… since nature does what’s right for mankind’s delight. Human nature must face that truth with meekness-brace.
Visual
Nature heeds God’s command
fulfilling His demand.
It complies with full might
against delaying blight.
Such is shown by rain fall
dropping down along wall
cascading from heaven
or wind blowing, proven
to humble trees down---
breaking great buildings’ crown,
always yielding with best
to the Creator’s test.
One great gift of nature
showing obedience-venture
is sun with its bright rays
warming well our great days
welcoming vibrantly…
marked by mirth joyously
midst photosynthesis
at work to meet crisis,
vanquishing food shortage
for human’s advantage
toward blest gratitude
and praise-filled attitude.
I do believe this fact,
affirming nature’s act:
yielding to divine will
with each role to fulfill.
So, when flash floods occur
and then heat waves recur,
who or what should be blamed?
To answer, I’m ashamed…
since nature does what’s right
for mankind’s delight.
Human nature must face
that truth with meekness-brace.
I heard it on the radio –
An early morning crash,
The driver’s fault and then her life
Was over in a flash.
It happened near my walking path
So when I headed out,
I knew I’d pass right by to see
What it was all about.
The F.D.R., six lanes across,
Had not a car in sight,
Except for police and clean-up crews
At work to make things right.
The car involved, a burned-out wreck,
Was waiting on the road
Until the inquiry was done
And then it would be towed.
Debris was scattered in the lanes
In both directions, plus,
The walking path had wreckage, too,
Which no one did discuss.
The car, a Tesla, slammed into
A barrier and flipped,
With flames caused by the battery
With which it was equipped.
The impact made the driver
And the passenger eject.
Though he survived, who knows the damage
That he can expect.
We may not ever learn just why
The driver hit those speeds,
Which well exceeded limits
That nobody ever heeds.
I succumb not to thee; to this mast I shall stay bound
As yonder lie lost souls of unjust blood, and gore alas
Play victim to sirens songs and lyres, nor be drowned
This ship will sail sharpen rocks, allow not an impasse
As yonder lie lost souls of unjust blood, and gore alas
As sirens with lyres continue, in their so unholy quest
This ship will sail sharpen rocks allow not an impasse
My sailors' ears dulled by wax, heeds not thy request
As sirens with lyres continue in their so unholy quest
With arms and hands to oars, waves broken succumb
My sailors' ears dulled by wax, heeds not thy request
As in competition the siren's lyre strings more strung
With arms and hands to oars waves broken succumb
And forewarned sailors to their calls shall they defeat
As in competition the siren's lyre strings more strung
With intentions that with your death you should meet
And forewarned sailors to their calls shall they defeat
To pass yonder this island, where siren’s cast their ail
With intentions that with your death you should meet
As on the shores lie the bodies of all those that failed
To pass yonder this island, where Siren’s cast their ail
Play victim to sirens songs and lyres, nor be drowned
As on the shores lie the bodies of all those that failed
I succumb not to thee to this mast I shall stay bound
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass had never learned to cope;
once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope.
She fled the curse of worlds perverse by shooting shots of dope,
and stalked discreet’ Asylum Street her daily horoscope.
The stray was struck by passing truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire
(born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire)
for no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
though faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul stained red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
(the twisted grin seemed dark and thin behind the robed façade).
“She’ll burn in hell with sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
On a harbor of restless shore
she scans across the deepened waves,
to end pain’s grim just like before...
as necklace breaks, in chilled farewell.
By edge of evening, time races
with hope to drown in circling tides.
Not a chance to hold stars’ graces,
a wish tangled in poverty.
Big dipper heeds her whimper, faint
as dazzling light soaks in blue sea.
Until her child harks ,” Mom, have faith;
I'm here with you, through love’s glory.”
By questioning the bleak of life
her truth alights, now out of strife.
Suicide Prevention Month Contest
Sponsor: Laura Loo Rhyme-- Sonnet Form
Re-submitted 9/16/2017