Long Helped Poems
Long Helped Poems. Below are the most popular long Helped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Helped poems by poem length and keyword.
One Sunday evening I went to a Sandy beach I found a little German shepherd puppy. which was tied to a branch of a beech. No one was near the black and tan guppy
Made a continuous low whine after an hour Had a pair of wistful eyes and scowling face Became withdrawn after his boss had gone outer.
Certainly his face looked like a grim case
He was in a deep melancholy mood. His face was shrouded in agony. And he was in a state of depression too For him it was a day of gloomy and irony
Finally, I helped him whole heartedly. Had he shown his feelings for me? Untied the knot and released him guardedly. He followed me like a little lamb in glee.
Author Dana Redricks
May 4, 2022
Lord Yeshua, I'm thankful for everything we have. We may not have much, but I'm thankful for what we have. Through the hardships and through the pain it all made me appreciate each new blessing as they come. Everything I have been through has helped me value life. Out of everything I'm thankful for I'm most thankful for You. Without You being by my side I wouldn't make it through. In the valley to the mountaintop my gratitude for You surpasses anything this life could offer. You are there when no one is to wipe each tear drop when they fall. It will take an eternity to show You how grateful I am for You.
I was thinking of my youth,
which I occasionally do (SIGH).
When I remembered how I it was
to watch a butterfly.
They weren't around all that much to see
as I grew up in the big city.
Yet I had seen them fluttering about,
even trying to catch those so pretty.
Orange trimmed with black and gold,
morphed from their caterpillar caccoons.
Colors of the rainbow awing and floating by,
Even through the city's housing boom.
If one lands on you it is good luck,
or at least that's what they say.
I have had some good luck,
a long time ago, on another day.
The butterflys were with me
when I took tests at school.
They were with me before a game,
or when I felt like a fool.
The biggest ones came
when I was on one knee.
Asking that "Special Someone"
if she would marry me.
Oh, I don't know what color they were,
but they were in my tummy.
To this day I remember well,
they didn't taste very yummy.
They were there all the same,
fluttering about because all three were bold.
It was a big game, a test, and I felt the fool,
as she could say "No", and put my life on hold.
But those are the butterflys I overcame
kneeling before her that scary night.
She said, "Yes", and all was well
and ended my individual plight.
The butterflys went away,
and although we have laughed and shed tears.
Those butterflys are with me still,
even after all these years.
So when I see a butterfly now
in truth I can always see,
How swallowing my fear on that night,
the butterflys helped set me free.
My life is pen and paper
My world was built with them
And still they’re true forever
Till when the worlds will end
They helped me with the letters
And see me through life’s school
They know when, if and whether
My returns would be good
Now pen then ink and feather
Who stored up memories
Upon cloth or brown paper
Now made to history
They're true and never skitter
About what has been known
Their wisdom's cheap, but glitters
And turns us into gold
My world is pen and paper
My life made colourful
And blessed by these two mothers
I bless thee my people
They helped me with math furthered
And also with the games
Now through the storm and weather
They've risen up my name
When even in cold winter
Their work’s still beautiful
And as it gets colder
They are more wonderful
Life was made with you my brothers
Well made like the sparkling stars
That shines and points their fingers
To none but God on high
I watched a tiny spider
Try to catch a giant ant.
I wondered if his inner voice
Was arguing, "I can't!"
That didn't seem to be the case.
The ant was nearly caught,
But as the spider wrapped him up,
Quite mightily he fought.
Despite the spider's efforts, though,
At last the ant broke free.
He had no clue that waiting was
A bigger foe (that's me!).
For normally I'd squash an ant
I'd come across inside,
But after such a struggle,
I'd feel awful if he died.
So gingerly I scooped him
To deposit him outdoors
Where he scampered very quickly
On his version of all-fours.
Had I not observed his battle
He'd be crushed beneath my shoe,
So his would-be killer helped him,
Not quite what he'd meant to do.
The class thing
I’m working class from the very beginning, my mother worked in a fish factory putting sardines
In the meantime, she went to work before me. My breakfast was standing in the kitchen, eating a slice of bread with margarine. if the school served breakfast, I ate there
I noticed early in life that those who spoke with educated voices got better treatment than we who spoke the street parlance
I tried to speak as the educated did, which made me tongue-tied and deeply shy, but it helped me to get an education of sorts
It was only after stumbling, falling, and reading that I came to see I hail from an honorable class that built our nation after World War 2
It was a sad day today
The girl at 87
The guy at 95 had split
It was all over social media
Old Mrs Malathorpe said it was a shame
Billy, who had just left the army after a hundred and fifty years, couldn’t give a toss
Chelsea, who had mentioned to the girl at 87
Her boyfriend and Mary, who worked at the dairy, were maybe a bit more than contrary
Had she checked, she would have realised the dairy was a Turkish barbers' run by asylum seekers incorporated
Billy couldn’t understand why the bastards he used to kill were living next door to him now
Old Mrs Malathorpe said the girl at 87 was 18 months pregnant
Billy couldn’t understand civilians, hated not having a structure
Why couldn’t he die in the army
Chelsea would make a move on the guy at 95
The girl at 87 left the area
Billy saw the enemy walking towards him, quickly plunging the knife through his eye into his brain.
This would get him into prison, where he would get structure
The team monitoring the suicide bomber ran towards him, congratulating him on his bravery. Nothing was mentioned about the knife.
Billy was now a reluctant hero who hated the media even more than civilians now.
Chelsea who had now dumped the guy at 95, could see something in Billy
She knew he needed structure.
It was a simple conversation. Be at my house at 8, repeat it to me.
I’ll be at your house at 8. Billy liked being ordered about.
He turned up at 8 sharp
Go into the bedroom, get undressed and wait for me.
She entered naked, holding a burning candle and got on top of him
The burning wax dripped onto his body as the gentle rocking reached its climax
Chelsea would now take total control of Billy's life. Every night at 8, he would return for more
It was in the second week that she decided this world wasn’t for them.
They would end it tonight.
The walk up to the bridge was slow and deliberate
They both got on the ledge, briefly kissing before jumping
The car pulled up, and she got in
Mrs Malathorpe asked if he’d gone to a new place
Yes, mum, a new place.
The media were all over the story
Chelsea played up to the camera, telling of Billy's pain, his PTSD
The funeral was televised live
She looked good in black, like that was her colour
The public crowdfunding helped her heartbreak
Only the guy at 95 knew the real Chelsea, but he was history.
I picked up my old high school yearbook from on the shelf where it has stood for many years and when I opened it I thought…it smelled like childhood.
Browsing through its pages I found, much to my delight, how my old f friends and even I looked good in black and white.
I found faces I remember…friends I use to know…
moments captured for eternity…a long, long time ago.
Names I still remember…Marilyn, Joe and John…
I remember so many wonderful moments spent together…
and how, in a moment…they were gone.
Gone…as we left to find our places in the world…
wondering what futures we might find…
excited at the possibilities…grateful for the friends we left behind.
I did not know back then…I was much too young to see how the people in this yearbook helped determine who I’d be.
I turned to a photo of me standing with my friends…smiling…seemingly without a care…and I realized I wouldn’t be standing where I am today…if I hadn’t been standing there.
Standing with my childhood friends…friends who helped me find my way…friends who helped transform the boy I was back then into the man I am today.
Yes, looking at old photos of a young me…and old friends I can still name…I wondered if anyone who picks up their old yearbook doesn’t feel the same.
Doesn’t smile as they look back on a different time…a different where and when…
and wonder who’d they be today…without the friends they had back then.
Total estimated casualties, including civilians and Taliban 171,000 to 174,000 all in the cause of a very dubious war, returning Afghanistan to what it was 20 years before, and abandoning some of those who helped and are now likely to be hunted down and executed.
This doesn’t include the injured, physically and mentally.
Is there any cause for any Politician to have any pride in this.
My dangerous journey starts,
No time to dawdle or tarry,
Just a few belongings, reduced
To what I can easily carry.
My life rolled up in a backpack
Slung from one shoulder,
My departure documents tightly
Clasped in a plastic folder.
Walking slowly up this gangway
Into the bowels of this plane
Twenty years of change and hope
After the Taliban’s harsh reign.
Goodbye sere mountainous land
Harsh, severe, it used to be mine,
It’s all behind me now as I sit
Lucky to be on this evacuation line.
Most of my life under occupation,
I can barely remember the Taliban,
A child when they left so I grew
Up in a very different Afghanistan.
A harsh and hasty decision made
Causing many to hesitate and grieve
Before taking the only real decision,
It’s time to pack up and leave.
A life of uncertainty in a new place
Heavens knows where it will be
Only one thing certainly known
We’ll have the status of refugee.
There’s a sense of fear and betrayal
As your occupation finally ends,
The clock starts to turn back as
Our New Dark Age truly descends. .
You have much to answer for
After such a long stay
Just to suddenly decide
To up and walk away.
As you retreat once again
Do you really expect
The rest of the world
To still treat you with respect.
The moth was morose and sad, things had not gone his way.
He sat on the mushroom topper, thinking how gray was his day.
A grandfather mouse who had seen stuff and been through a lot.
Bounded up on that mushroom to see moth deep in thought.
Whatever it is, tomorrow will be much better, he said.
The moth was embarrassed and turned away his small head.
Seriously, said grandfather mouse. Tomorrow will be great!
And it was for the moth, who was surprised at this state.
He wanted to thank the grandfather mouse, but he was long gone.
He had travelled past the weeds, down the hill, past the pond.
The moth remembered the kindness and tried to help others after that.
He helped a vole, a mole, a dog, a hog, a beetle and a kitty cat.