Long Hough Poems
Long Hough Poems. Below are the most popular long Hough by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hough poems by poem length and keyword.
Stevland Morris is the real name of Stevie Wonder
Though blind soon after birth it didn’t push him under
Exceptionally talented performer from a tender age
Virtuoso musician and singer when he's on a stage
‘Little Stevie Wonder’ at the age of just thirteen
Achieved a number one hit on the music scene
Now he has a star on the Hollywood Hall of Fame
Detroit honored him with an Avenue of his name
Many songs Stevie’s written over last fifty years
‘Overjoyed’ is a favorite, its lyrics bring me tears
Recording on Tamla Mowtown he’s a multi talented man
Right from my early years I’ve been a massive fan
I’ve seen him in concert twice he really was amazing
Stevie Wonder is incredible, his music I am praising!
MY UPCOMING BIRTHDAY (09-03) CELEBRITY - Any Form Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
9/10/19
* His birth name was Stevland Hardaway Judkins but this was changed when his mother divorce and his legal surname is Morris
* William if I am lucky enough to win a cash prize please donate it to help those poor people in The Bahamas after the devastating effects of Hurricane Dorian*
Letting Go
Letting go...sometimes it happens twice,
Eventually, as life does cast its dice.
The little ones we raised flew from the nest,
Though for sure, the time we shared was blessed.
Into our lives there came the second chance;
New little ones to share our lives, enhance
Grandparent's joy to love; lives interspersed.
Gift of second chance soon followed first...
Off they fly, now grown, new paths dispersed.
How quick the years go by when we
find joys we think will never pass.
Although they do, we happily
accept the new ones we amass.
joys of parenthood
relived with young grandchildren;
next joys...their success
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Letting Go - Three Form Style
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 04/13/2016
~10th Place~
Premiere Contest: Your Best Poem From Any of Laura Loo's Contests
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 09/18/2016
P - eace on earth, the angels proclaimed on that Holy Night!
E - choing yet down through the ages that humankind might,
A - bstain from bitter prejudices that hinder brotherhood,
C - alling each to abide by The Golden Rule and foster good.
E - ach generation, alas, seems to require its tidy little war.
O - ur reasoning together, it seems to me, might settle the score.
N - ations that look to Him for guidance rather than fickle man,
E - njoy the blessings of He who is charge of the Master Plan!
A -nother New Year is approaching and another plea for peace,
R - esonates from the peoples of all nations that conflict will cease!
T - hough there will always be wars and rumors of war, 'tis said,
H - ope still prevails that charity and brotherhood will reign instead!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Francine Roberts' "Holiday Acrostic Challenge" Contest - Dec 2011
S omewhere in the recent past came a show which brought the future,
T hough it was a show that would use the future to show us the past.
A nd each week when the new episode was on the tube...
R ecounting now, I remember how I wished each would last.
T he writing was some of the best fiction ever put on TV.
R oddenberry chose a cast that would memorialize his dream.
E ach week they took us to a time in another place for an hour,
K irk, Spock, Sulu, Scotty, Bones, Uhura, and Chechov were on the screen.
Even today I will sometimes "binge" watch those old shows,
Remembering how they influenced my every look up at a star.
The show created many more series and a number of movies too...
It's the one show that in our generation will never have a par.
(The extra quatrain was written only to fulfill the 10 line minimum required.)
Dear heart, you’ve lived through much,
Enduring trials since your early years.
All you ever yearned for was a gentle touch.
Rewards did come to you, but also fears.
How you used to hope; how you used to dream!
Early on, you realized some dreams aren’t what they seem.
Adulthood showed you this.
Reality is far from bliss
Though sweetness too you’ve known to get you through!
Oh, dear heart of mine – you have known love -
Friends and family have been the gifts thereof.
Many have been my blessings; many have been my woes.
Inside of me, dear heart, you still beat on and on.
Never have you failed me yet, but well do I suppose
Everlastingly you will remain when even from this earth I’m gone.
Jan. 30, 2023
for the Dear Heart Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose Rose
Senses are aroused as autumn appears
Unwavering in artistry to cheer
Spectacular arrays of shrubs and trees
Unequaled beauty in colourful leaves
Red, gold, yellow and brown tumbling down
Rustling as the breeze blows them around
Underfoot fallen leaves crunch in rhapsody
Sounds of autumn, a seasonal melody.
Owls hoot and stalk the dark woods hauntingly
For they foresee Halloween’s soon to be.
October’s magic for all that it brings
Coming up soon, all kinds of everything
Though days draw shorter and long is the night
Out there the autumn moon and stars shine bright
Blessed Yuletide anticipated again
Earths overture composed by wind and rain
Remains October's susurrus refrain.
29th September 2020
While some are sadly struggling, jobless or hungry in this world,
I am feeling fortunate
To simply be alive
Having friends and family; with these two I thrive!
God’s grace I see in poetry surrounding me - like the
Radiance of dawn’s first light
And in the stars that blanket skies of night!
Though times are strange, I find my consolation
In the many things that do not change:
The summer’s sun upon my skin; the song of birds; my garden flowers.
Ugliness that I may see around me comes not from God.
Days that I live I fill with gratitude - with glad and peaceful hours,
Enjoying my friends and family that mean so much to me.
Sept. 2, 2020 for Francine Roberts' Attitude Of Gratitude Poetry Contest
T he birds have been around for centuries.
H ow sweetly singing, winging on their way,
E vanescent as a summer breeze. . .
B ringing bliss supreme; then gone one day.
I n your bloom of youth, one bird appears.
R adiant, you’ll soar to splendor’s height,
D runk with joy till passion disappears.
S tung by love undone, you’ll face your plight.
A las, your bird has turned into a bee.
N aïve no longer, you have felt love’s sting.
D evoted love you’ll seek as remedy!
T hough you’ll wish to hear a new bird sing,
H eartache may await. You must recall
E ventually sweet passion’s birds become. . .
B ees! How can you know real love at all?
E yes open, you must seek a faithful one;
E phemeral are the birds and yes, the bees.
S till they will persist for centuries!
FOR PD's Acrostic II Contest
P arking my Harley near the doorway, we sauntered inside.
O ther than a lone microphone, I took the emptiness in stride.
E VENTUALLY the emcee asked what would be our order,
T hough it was hard for him to speak because of his goiter.
R eaching for my empty wallet was an INEVITABLE ILLUSION,
Y our CREATIVITY will be needed now, to prevent any contusion.
P erhaps I was mistaken, thinking I’d drop in for an alcohol INFUSION.
A lthough, the strong smell of pot just might ease that delusion.
L ooking all around the place for some small sense of sanity,
A fter that, the TV just went blank during a show called “Hannity.”
C ould this place, I wondered; be a “poetry palace” with an open mike?
E xcited, I ran out for the chap book I left on my trike.
By John Trusty
N ow that the Mid-Term Elections are near
O ne of the things that we always hear
N ot one of the candidates will give his agenda
E ach one flings mud that could stick on my fender.
O h, how I wish that our process was different
F or electing those representatives who are significant.
T hough I am not enthralled by the prospect
H ere in my own way I must interject...
E lections are only won when people vote with intellect.
A ccording to most of the talking heads we hear
B oth parties have candidates of which we should have no fear.
O nly the candidates will tell you that they get a bad rap
V ery often, however, the voter is the sap ~ Yet,
E ach one of us must vote his conscience...like I just did!