Long Idol Poems
Long Idol Poems. Below are the most popular long Idol by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Idol poems by poem length and keyword.
My Brother
Today is our twenty-fifth birthday, Dear Brother!
We were like-twins born on same date
Fifteen minutes apart
Who knew, you could leave me all on a sudden, Last Year!
By appearance we were alike, but opposite in nature
You were strong, energetic: Me weak, lethargic.
You! Always engaged being busy
Me! Preferred to lie down, being lazy.
In school, playground, everywhere, you acted as my protector
I was pampered by parents.
You took blame covering my fault.
I was all along indebted to you,
but got no scope to repay, only to admit gratitude.
Both of us were attacked by Meningitis.
Weak one survived, strong brother passed away.
Cruel Nature has done unforgivable injustice.
We were entwined for twenty- four years.
Timid backward brother left behind to shed tears!
Now I am a lone fighter in struggle of life,
only to put a posy of flower on your grave!
My Idol! My Brother! Bold and brave.
Since childhood I put my head on your shoulder.
My volunteered guardian! Fifteen minutes older.
My Dearest Brother
09/ 17/17
Poems that paint a picture 2 Contest by Silent One
Second Place
'STRAND SELECT F' Contest by Brian Strand
When Jacob fled from Laban’s house,
He went with everything he had.
With Laban off and shearing sheep,
He set his face towards Gilead.
It was while Laban was away
That Rachel did a thing most odd:
While packing for escape that day,
she pilfered Laban’s household gods.
When Laban found out they had left,
He mounted chase in swift pursuit,
O’ertook them, leveled charge of theft,
Demanded swift return of loot.
But Jacob raised protest, denied,
Invited him to search the tent.
Whoever stole would surely die.
(Not knowing Rachel’s ill intent)
So Laban searches, he finds naught
The idol hid between her legs.
“I cannot rise,” remains uncaught.
“The way of women,” how she begs.
At this, I thought, a question begs,
For Rachel felt a sense of shame,
An idol hid between her legs,
But do we likewise feel the same?
The idol ‘twixt the legs now, sex,
We glorify and lift on high.
We, full immune to shame’s effects,
No longer blush, see naught awry.
We flaunt it in the public square
For all to see, on full display
These things just better left unshared,
That shouldn’t see the light of day.
What lesson do we draw from this?
Perhaps it’s simply to remind
That, holding on, we are remiss;
Our idols, best, when left behind.
(from Genesis 31)
79.
Wrong Turn
On the time I left the straight path
Unfathomed anxiety teemed my heart
Ever doubted the resolve of my brain
If it would delight or harness some pain
The only sure thing was that
I only earned another's wrath
When from discontent
Formed I blemish intent
I became a speck
On the eyes of the meek
Abnormal fantasy
Drained all sanity
Filled with derision
To a righteous person
Worshipped childhood idol
Whom I thought would heed my call
Thought I'd found a savior
Who would do me a favor
Upon turning away
From his opponent's way
Onwards orange avenue
Belching fumes towards yellow hue
Traffic disturbed
Many eyes to me turned
On wrong turn entrapped
By stupid mishap
Was towed from the highway
After causing disarray
In proper seclusion
The transgressor was thrown
Behind the shadows anguishing
No orange attending
In the end it was yellow
Who ransomed ex-fellow.
-11/20/2011
(Dumarao)
*Yellow Poems Collection
(This is a fictional poem)
A mother and daughter had a terrible accident when they went for a drive.
The mother perished and the little girl was barely alive.
Lindsay Lohan stopped to see if she could help.
When she saw this poor little girl, her heart began to melt.
She rode in the ambulance and held the girl's hand all the way.
Things looked bad but Lindsay didn't give up hope on this day.
Lindsay is the little girl's idol and that's what gave her the strength to pull through.
She loves Lindsay and Lindsay loves her too.
I'm very happy that her life didn't end.
Now she and Lindsay are the best of friends.
Form:
My Way
I saw the three tenors sing “I did it my way,” mind, the fat one died,
and the two others hate each other and never appear in public if
They can avoid it. Of the two, one looks like an aging matinée idol
The other suffers from being mobbed at school and looks scared
has nightmares and takes to tears before going on stage.
I still like Frank Sinatra`s rendition of that song better; he sang
It was so relaxed with a clear diction, and made me think of a man
With six a pack ambling on his way home, he too is dead to
“My Way” is about human hubris; we believe we are masters of our
destiny when we are leaves blowing along a wet asphalt road
in the autumnal half-light.
Thinking back, I can afford to, I never got a thing my way, which, when
Young caused me bitterness, the highest prize eluded me, kismet knew
I could not handle illustriousness; it would have made me look absurd
a swaggering fool hated by colleagues, at the stage of life. Yet, when
dancing the tango at a nightclub in Buenos Aires, 54 years ago
The applause I received still rings sweetly in my ears.
...They told us it was ‘tolerant’
to not care if people were gay,
just letting those folk live their lives,
how could it hurt us anyway?
They said that we were spinning lies
when we spoke of a slippery slope,
but once they got that first wall down
they declared that anything goes.
That anything people believe
must be seen as morally right,
sure, it may be depravity,
but go on, and do what you like!
Now we’re seeing ugly drag queens
thrusting their hips in a kid’s face,
kids who have not hit puberty,
and teachers cheerlead this disgrace!
We’ve got people taking hormones,
openly destroying their health,
to pretend they can change their sex
(And give corrupt doctors great wealth).
Some people even want this for
children who are too young to think,
sterilize them for all their life,
and to greater depths do some sink!
We got crazies who think it’s fine
to see children as sexual,
we have slid so far down that slope
they’re trying to ‘tolerate’ pedos!
How many souls are hurt by this,
what evil will they not make light?
We thought we could remake mankind,
but no, the Christians were right.
They told us that we’d need no God,
some even declared He was dead,
we must build up our own purpose,
the whole world was just in our heads,
and people, wanting no constraint,
no reminder when they’d done bad,
embraced this with greatest gusto,
they wanted this, it made them glad.
But with no greater moral stake
by which you can measure against,
behaviors becomes relative,
and we’ve all seen what happened then.
Socialists killed tens of millions,
for the devil known as the state,
the Fascists killed off millions more,
mankind made an idol of hate.
Even here in our modern times
we see this sickness in our youth,
there isn’t really ‘right or wrong,’
just your personal point-of-view!
No dishonor in stealing things,
no treachery in telling lies,
in nihilism nothing’s wrong
so long as the cops don’t drive by.
Why do people cheat so much more,
be it with their partner, or job?
Because they feel they won’t get caught,
no greater meaning, if there’s no God.
Dishonest, depressed, with no purpose,
no wonder they don’t value life,
man cannot make his own meaning,
so yeah, the Christians were right.
We are not going to hell
Tell the preacher man
To be upright with his words
Cos we are not the reason
Why tomorrow looks red
We did not create the monster on the hills
Either did we set the fire with the steel birds
We never made up the suffering we face
Neither did we want a troublesome land
For too long we voted for
Peace love prosperity progress and care
We were innocent of the lies from strange men
Men whose action are far from their words
Days after days our life's remain unchanged
Our stories remains the same
Despite how much good we are to the law
So tell the preacher man
To say the truth to power cos
We are not going to hell
We are the ones beaten
Black and blue
We are the victims of lies
So please when you preach
Tell God how much we suffer cos
There's no better hell
Than the ghetto life's in the third world
So please tell the preacher man
that when we die
We are not going to hell
We are not going to hell
There must be a heaven
For an African child
Whose life on earth bleeds with pains
Just for a mere basic survival
Yes there must be a paradise
For the innocent whose life were
Wasted just for greed and hatred
There must be a better rest for the brave
Whose life was cut short by evil
So tell the preacher man that
There is no hell for an African child
Cos we are already existing in one
We are already burning on earth
We've lost our valuable to hunters
Lost our dignity to the west
Left our spirituality to an idol
We are naked to the world
Despite our input to nature
Our troubles never change
And there is no better hell
we can burn no more
So tell the preacher man
To be upright with his words
Cos after this longs years of slavery
After this longs time of suffering
After facing the worlds isolation
Sorry mr preacher man
Their must a heaven
for an African child cos
We are not going to hell
We are the ones beaten
Black and blue
We are the victims of lies
So please when you preach
Tell God how much we suffer cos
There's no better hell
Than the ghetto life's in the third world
So please tell the preacher man
that when we die
We are not going to hell
Sketch
of Saint
Gracious
Honourable
Mother Teressa:
on board at road crossing
drawing acclaim, reverence
of passer-by and on -looker !
Idol of humble humanity :
Serene Pristine Divine : Great Persona.
05/08/23
Contest by Brian Strand
From Pop Idol to American Idol, the Journey Across the Pond was Worth the Trip.
From the X Factor, Britain’s Got Talent to AGT, the Road has been long and Ever Winding.
Though while walking the streets of Lambeth, and playing in the school yard in Elstree seems like a distant Fond Memory.
You Spent long days at Radlett and later developed a keen intellect at Dover College.
From EMI to Fanfare Records you further developed your Musical Genius and Style at BMG and S Records.
Though I think that the role which will encapsulate the Rest of Your Life, and be Most Fulfilling came to Fruition on February 14, in 2014 with the birth of Your Son Eric.
I Read that you Broke your back, which I can only imagine is very painful.
I know that this is not a Poem, or very Artistic, but I wanted to write to say as a Music and Talent Fan, Thank you.
I Wish for you God’s Richest blessing in the future.
May his Grace, Love, Peace and Understanding abide with You Always.
God Bless,
Sincerely
One of Many Fans
Author Paul Cumberbatch ( September 2nd, 2020)
Important happenstances continue to echo
in future life also.
Might be attenuated in pitch
reduced in slow decay.
being filtered with passage of time
My Dad was my Idol, Philosopher and Guide
to inspire, instruct, direct and protect me.
His advices continuously echo in my mind
on same strength without losing intensity .
'Echo Filtering Reality' at least failed in this aspect
I strictly follow all his instructions
throughout my life till date.
His blessings and affection showering me
all along echoing in my soul, just unfiltered.
The voices of my Dad to echo in my ears
not fading with Time but guarding me at every step.