Long Hopkins Poems
Long Hopkins Poems. Below are the most popular long Hopkins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hopkins poems by poem length and keyword.
Good friend, fear thee not! For chemical bliss,
Awaits in their smile, their laughter, their kiss …
Your future? Intoxicating. There is naught you shall miss.
You spent too much time to set this day right, to organize
But why will you not listen to me and realize...
Your friend is here to womanize!!
Now let us not pretend this short poem is a Victorian
Nor act as if I am a poet, prophet or historian;
But my friend, more than one emperor was betrayed by his praetorian.
Mind you not the fell dagger plunged deep in your back,
Or the guile and the wit of the siren attack.
Proceed as you must. Haste now! No alack!
2.29.2020
Written for "Occasional" contest, sponsored by Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
Engagement theme
Immediate family ever so small now
Most of all are gone
Core family now my adult children
And now a new grandchild to tell the joys of
The savior, resurrection
The join teachings of the true resurrection
To celebrate the rising and present living of Jesus Christ
Oh, God knows us for He allowed Christ to live to die
So that sin full man may rise
Jesus died and rose again for you and I
So on this resurrection year
Our family praise the life of the King
Our belief, our views, the joy this year Christ has risen
Our small remaining family gathered and acknowledge
This my 63rd celebration being
Easter 2018
4/10/19
Contest: Easter 2018
Sponsored by: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
My childhood memory of Easter confronts me with three very pleasant reflections. Perhaps my first experience with the idea of Easter came with the way our parents would sacrifice so much for us to look pretty and handsome at the church on Easter Sunday. We never felt more special nor looked better than that at any time for any reason.
Coming in second as I look back over several decades ago is the delightful Easter egg hunt. As a child, that was one of the most fun experiences of the year. The hunt was always on Easter Sunday after returning home from church services. There was the added bonus of the hunt within the hunt. That is to say that there was always 'A Golden Egg' that included something extra special that always lit up our happy stary eyes and hearts.
But the third item was the most mysterious of the three even though it always appeared first chronologically. In fact, there was Holy Week that always seemed to flow with a sense of awe. There were movies depicting the 'day Christ died' and the Sunday that he rose. Nevertheless, the Friday before Easter known as Good Friday was a problem for me because I did not understand how a day could be good when such an evil act happened to Jesus. I do not remember when, but heaven surely shined its light on me and explained the goodness of Good Friday. I tell you, that light was so bright that it lit up my entire life and the light of Christ's Goodness and what he did for me and you have served me for a lifetime and will continue to do so throughout eternity.
Certain traditions and celebrations over time often fall by the wayside, and family values and habits change. Life takes on different priorities. Notwithstanding, we must remember that we enter this world with a family standing by our sides, and when we leave this world, families will be there as we exit. Oh, I know that the boiled and painted eggs no longer grace our lawn, and our kids and grandkids may not be as well and formally dressed as we were in yesteryears. That's okay, as long as we never forget as our families gather for dinner this Easter that Easter must always be about THE CHRIST and The Family.
03292018 FB PS Contest, Easter 2018, Hopkins-Drewer
Rode around Essex with murder in mind
With evil followers from town to town
Matthew Hopkins was the worst of his kind
Hunting for witches that he could take down.
Towns people would say that woman's a witch
She'd then be tortured until she confessed
Then hanged until death and thrown in a ditch
Hopkins got paid saying she was possessed .
People believed his work was of the good
Earned a large fortune from superstition
By ridding' evil 'from the neighbourhood
Claimed witch finding was his holy mission.
Three hundred murdered in his killing spree
Were all tortured and charged with sorcery.
Written 1st August 2019.
Sent from my Windows 10 device
The flame of friendship ignited in us,
our spirits entwined like twin blazes, yes;
We became a beautiful matching pair,
with a special connection very rare.
Now, because of work you must leave,
but you will always be my friend, Genevieve;
No matter the years you will dwell in my heart,
twined in my life you will always be part.
May your path take you to a beautiful place,
our friendship, I will forever, ever embrace.
__________________________
February 25, 2020
Poetry/Verse/Our Friendship is Forever
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1230-346-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Dedicated to my friend Genevieve
Written for the contest, Occasional Poetry
sponsor, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
Second Place
On Turning Fifty
Felt so depressed as I turned fifty.
Ageing captured: hard reality.
Tried to reckon my entity.
What I left, which was priority.
Analysed how much I have received!
To what extent I have been deceived.
Sometimes success, sure I have achieved.
Mostly failure, not to be believed.
To bid bye to youth was most shocking.
Old age at door step started knocking.
Now reaching seventy, news is breaking.
Fifty!Too young! That age!Me envying.
Rhyming form aaaa bbbb cccc
11 syllables per line
04/12/17
On Turning Fifty Contest by Cicelia Hopkins Drewer
PEACE ON EARTH
Peter paints the deep blue sky,
as if at the rise of creation.
He brushes the circumference
of a brand new world.
With tears, Max moves his sweeping
brush, as if tidying up the base
of the gifted Statue of Liberty.
Her height rises into the heavens.
Peter gives depth to the earth.
Bodies of water and continents,
brought to life. The bottom third
of the canvas displays the stars
and stripes of the American flag,
carpet-like - the world’s welcome.
Each star, meticulously placed,
sparkling around our beloved planet.
Before the artist signs his masterpiece,
with simply - MAX,
Lady Liberty’s torch glows like the sun,
over New York City. This artist who
saved her from her deteriorating fate,
who painted each fallen fireman -
gifting their families with painted portraits.
Max, born in Germany, raised in China.
Max, a patriot of the United States.
Max, a gentle man, sweet and kind.
He turns around and waves,
he shook my hand. His brushstrokes
inhabit the Statue of Liberty.
He stands ten feet tall,
even with withering bones.
A class act, all displayed in his lovely painting,
Peace On Earth.
9/17/2017
Enter Your Own Competition
Sponsor: Cecilia Hopkins-Drewer
My Competition: Celebration Of Art
Art: Peter Max’s Peace On Earth
Criterion hoping to achieve: Bring to life a painting of an old or new master artist.
Peter Max is an American artist known for using bright colors in his work. Max synthesized the "Summer of Love" into artworks from canvas to mugs, clocks, scarves, clothes, and cruise ships. Reference: Wikipedia
Hopkins just fumed, and dove for his iron,
Bud’s gun barked, and he fired right then,
The Pinkerton’s charged at the gunshot,
And stared down on the lifeless corpse of Hopkins.
“Sorry I could not get him for you alive,”
Was all Bud said when they looked on the scene.
“You’ve got your man, you’ll get your reward,
but there is some place else that I have to be.”
The very next morn bud arrived at the ranch,
and found Henry working out in the corral,
he said,”I thought about the things that you said,
there’ll be no more trouble from Hopkins now.”
Henry drew near, stared down the young man,
Said,”Well at least now you might have a chance.
But it doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,
why you dared to come back here again?”
Bud just frowned, said,”With things how they are,
I need to find myself a living, of course.
You gotta big spread and I thought maybe
you could use a man who can break a horse.”
Henry went silent for a very long time,
then rubbed at his chin, deep in thought,
“And were I to hire a man like yourself,
how can I ever be sure what I’ve got?”
Bud swallowed hard, and said to Henry:
“If you doubt that my words are sincere,
Then I’ll work my first year for just room and board,
To prove to you that I want to be here.”
Henry just smirked as he heard the words.
“How ’bout I start you out at half-pay.
You give me six months without a slip up,
then I’ll know the truth in what you say.”
Bud shook on it, could not help but smile,
but then Henry said one more thing:
“Also, you’re not to make eyes at my girl,
until I decide that she’s an age for courting!”
As the sun bestows its warm glow
Farther than the eye can see
The wind is magnificent today
Grand, relentless and amused
As if excited by the reaction of
Its stirring up perfumes from
Rusty limbs of now flowering trees
At the feet of giant swaying clusters of pink and white blooms
Chipmunks and squirrels joyously frolic
No doubt exhilarated by this first precocious summer afternoon
Intoxicating scents fill the air
As I gleefully let my nostrils and my soul take it all in
Appreciating the musical rustling of leaves and flowers
As if shaking off any last remains of
Wintry dust and decay
As if God is running his fingers
Through the blooms of his creation
And is happy with his gift
AP: 2nd place 2021
Submitted on September 6, 2017 for contest ENTER YOUR OWN COMPETITION sponsored by CECELIA HOPKINS-DREWER - RANKED 1ST
PS featured in 2022
I sought a theme but it was in vain . . .
so, I let my MUSE take me by the hand to this place
that I will tell you with a s i g h -
oh heart, oh troubled, shattered heart-
I recall the sweet girl, who was me in yesterdays
we lived in a beautiful Victorian house on a shady street
and it was full of love every single day
but then . . .
my happiness was d r o w n e d in reality-
oh dripping,
dripping,
dripping
death, one by one
my beloved left upon a fading gleam
to dwell with the birds and their sleepy songs
echoing among the dark and deep green and shadows
of the rows and rows of tombs-
and I was left to dream . . .
and dream of memories and loving scenes
locked in the corridors of my mind behind a wall, that
I built one brick at a time until it is a MASSIVE fortress . . .
will I accept my slow d e c a y or rise in pride
and break down this wall of mine
remove my mask of sorrow
I stagger terrified . . .
my heart beating wildly in my chest
then suddenly my wings unfold
in feathery glory . . . .
and here I am-
______________________
May 30, 2017
Free Verse/and here I am
Copyright Protected, ID 905630
Written for the contest, Contemporary Poetry
sponsor, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
Option- Modernist- Free Verse/Non-rhyming
8th Place