Long In regard to Poems
Long In regard to Poems. Below are the most popular long In regard to by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long In regard to poems by poem length and keyword.
O Sweet Father Christ, do these people have Your spirit?
Do they please You in acting like this?
Does it please You, when for fear of displeasing You,
We neglect doing the greatest to please Your Mother?
Who’s our mother as well
Does devotion to Your mother, delay devotion to Yourself?
Does she attribute to herself honor we pay her?
Is she a stranger has no connection to You?
Does it displease You when we try to please her?
Do we alienate ourselves from Your love by giving ourselves to honoring her?
Yet my Sweet Master,
Greater learned not discourage to Your holy mother
Even all that I have said were true
Therefore, they’ve been punished for their pride!
Keep me Lord, form their sentiments and practices
Please give me share sentiments of gratitude
Esteem, Respect and Love
You has in regard to Your Holy Mother
The more I imitate her, follow her
The more I may Love and Glorify You
As if up to this point
Still I said nothing in honor of Your holy Mother
'Give me grace to praise You worthily,'
In spite of all her enemies, who are Yours as well
Grant me say loudly with the saints
'Let not that man believe to look for the mercy of Eternal God
Who offends His holy Mother
ah, tis in regard to praise worthy of zee
sylph van halen wondrous sigh door house
where boot LIX phallic ruled thee,
this missive (fertilized ova byproduct),
sans newly wedded whoopie
between n betwixt carnal existence
involving stiff joint courtesy of randy
(loch ness hike hood only imagine)
engendered pleasurable scree
ming, when enfilade eruption occurred
sans papa's engorged tree
into verdant valley shaped like miniature "v"
when bare naked lady n beastie boy - with re:
tractable shaped magic flute
mountebank upon late
(then young) mum when she
acquiesced bing dominated
during nude version with glee
club (prickly ***** per papa)
unplanned romp or x game of thrones
whereby rampant animal urge beckoned to free
flagellates searching mini verdant zyder zee
which warm fuzzy i.e. cop u lay shun
nine months later with meself as baby
baked to imp perfection second to none
this futre puff daddy slated
tubby conceived via sex pistol gun
in tandem with mull ate mum,
who cavorted in naked fun
begat word whiz as second brood ding bun
in the oven o me late mum...
gone against desire tool heave anon!
Form:
O Sweet Jesus, do these people have Your spirit?
Do they please You in acting like this?
Does it please You, when for fear of displeasing You,
We neglect doing the greatest to please Your Mother?
Does devotion to Your mother, delay devotion to Yourself?
Does she attribute to herself the honor we pay her?
Is she a stranger who has no connection to You?
Does it displease You when we try to please her?
Do we alienate or separate ourselves from Your love by giving ourselves to her honoring her?
Yet my Sweet Master,
The greater part of the learned could not discourage to Your holy mother more could now show more difference to it
Even all that I have said were true.
Therefore, have they been punished for their pride!
Keep me Lord, keep me form their sentiments and their practices
Give me share of the sentiments of gratitude
Esteem, Respect and Love
Which You has in regard to Your Holy Mother
The more I imitate her and follow her
The more I may Love and Glorify You
As if up to this point
I had still said nothing in honor of Your holy Mother
'Give me now the grace to praise You worthily,'
In spite of all her enemies, who are Yours as well
Grant me to say loudly with the saints
'Let not that man believe to look for the mercy of God
Who offends His holy Mother
(St. Louis Marie de Montfort)
O Sweet Father Christ, do these people have Your spirit?
Do they please You in acting like this?
Does it please You, when for fear of displeasing You,
We neglect doing the greatest to please Your Mother? Who’s our mother as well
Does devotion to Your mother, delay devotion to Yourself?
Does she attribute to herself honor we pay her?
Is she a stranger has no connection to You?
Does it displease You when we try to please her?
Do we alienate ourselves from Your love by giving ourselves to honoring her?
Yet my Sweet Master,
Greater learned not discourage to Your holy mother
Even all that I have said were true
Therefore, they’ve been punished for their pride!
Keep me Lord, form their sentiments and practices
Please give me share sentiments of gratitude
Esteem, Respect and Love
You has in regard to Your Holy Mother
The more I imitate her, follow her
The more I may Love and Glorify You
As if up to this point
Still I said nothing in honor of Your holy Mother
'Give me grace to praise You worthily,'
In spite of all her enemies, who are Yours as well
Grant me say loudly with the saints
'Let not that man believe to look for the mercy of Eternal God
Who offends His holy Mother
Dear Blabby,
I seem to be in a real pickle in regard to my wife Candy and my eighteen-year-old son Cal. He works in my bakery after school. The problem is, because he never kneads the dough, all he does is loaf. I won't sugar coat it, he's a bad seed, a rotten apple. I've handed him a plum job, but no matter how much I egg him on, he just peppers me with salty language.
Blabby, if I spill the beans and tell my wife how I intend to fire our son, I'm toast! She's become nuttier than a fruitcake, demanding that we spend our hard earned bread to send him to a fancy French cooking school. I'll butter her up, and in good taste, explain to her that it's time for our deadbeat boy to get his just deserts, even if it only means garnishing his wages.
It pains me to admit that if Cal were a car, he'd be a lemon. As for Candy, she's no longer my cup of tea. And I'm so burned out I feel like I'm becoming a vegetable.
Blabby, I have a regular customer named Ginger who's a real honey and a smart cookie to boot. She's Cal's age and is what my dad would have called a hot tomato. She digs me, Blabby, and would add so much spike to my life if we were to run off together. It would be as easy as pie. Food for thought?
Hungry for Change in Chicago
Dear Hungry,
You find yourself in this stew because your ideas are half baked. Try a new recipe.
8/14/22
quick figurative brush stroke drawn out character sketch
(serendipitous verisimilitude)
i stand in awe
(with mouth agape) at elegiac, fantastic,
and graphic idyllic Kinkade magic
leaving breathlessness from craw
at such artistic talent oozing
spellbindingly, whatever
aforementioned noteworthy craftsman
doth paint or draw,
and chanced to comment
about sad affairs leaving flaw
in regard to questionable business ethics -
where press hee haw
contradicting, maligning, undermining, and jaw
boning sans said late talented mortal
engaging in sketchy traits of south paw
city when contrasted with a dog given gift -
ooh...such rah...rah...rah
when he first appeared on the scene,
where most viewers saw
utmost dynamic, fantastic, and harmonic convergence
displaying such prosaic, rhapsodic,
titanic art show events
hum...and perhaps not surprising
his illicit in dull gents presents stark contrast,
staring hypnotized as imagination invents
experiencing peaceful, restful
and tumblerful joie de vivre espying
honorable mentioned nonpareil oeuvre
that placidly rents
craving to disappear into bucolic landscape whence,
splashed upon canvass,
attempting to bat
presumed "FAKE" rumors aside as nonsense - fat
chance prevailed constituting:
deceitful, immoral, unfaithful sly kat
nocturnal antics, despite scathing attacks
(cut him down to size), niggardly praises spat
out for me, I maintain cult of personality (his)
setting Mac Book Pro wallpaper
with exemplary landscape, either authentic or copy cat.
Lyrics are timed to music
Out there - a distant shore
I’ve seen your face before
It’s De’ja`vu with thoughts of you
Then feelings of a loss, come tomorrow
Sometime - another place
I’ve seen - your smiling face
It’s De’ja'vu of thoughts I knew
Love is meant to be, not the sorrow
I searched, beyond the stars
I looked beneath the moon
I know JUST KNOW - without a DOUBT
My heart - will show me soon
Oh way out there - a distant land
That’s where - my love began
Now De’ja'vu fills thoughts anew
So happy again - come tomorrow
So far, beyond that star
We’ll kiss far beneath the moon
I know, without a DOUBT
My heart will show me where soon
I’m sure, with wings I’ll soar
With love, I knew before
I’ll spread my wings I’ll learn to fly
And never ever again - be broken hearted
Oh we can fly with wings on high
Then never ever again, we’ll be parted
Synopsis of total De’ja’vu play that these lyrics were composed for:
The lives of two lovers was torn apart way back in the 14th century when she was banished. The interference could have caused a Pattern shift of Destiny in the Loom of Time. Could a certain couple be the same star crossed lovers that have searched for each other through many lifetimes over the centuries?
A wise mystical character from the bygone era is a keen observer and blames himself for not intervening. He also wonders that since the Earth is the cradle of humanity, would humans have progressed past the cradle in this day and age.
Foot note:
Ron and I love musical theater. After seeing a disappointing play, he rose to my challenge in regard to the comment he made that he could have written better. The result was De’ja’vu, a Romantic Musical.
I wrote the lyrics in collaboration with him, but due to the enormous staging costs the music was never written and we abandoned the project.
The lyrics for this piece have been tweaked to ‘La mer’, also known as ‘Beyond the Sea’ and one of my Dad’s favorite songs. (Wish he was here, he would have composed the music)
Sorry folks, if and when we find suitable music to the lyrics of the Grand Finale, I’ll post it
I find myself in this moment, reflecting on many instances -
ones that brought great joy or pain, some that brought change
or love or death, extraordinary moments of memorable things,
and a million moments in-between of varied levels of import ...
The thing that ties them all together, the common thread that weaves
the tapestry of life - that ties this blessing of breaths and heartbeats
into a bow - is that each moment, each precious period of time's
steady passing, is given to us to make of as we see fit ...
To take into our spirit's hands with care and intent, as a raw, soft clay
for our molding ... to think deliberately on its design and purpose,
allowing for space, order, simplicity, and contemplation, and focus not
on the destination, but accept as a rare and precious gift.
We ALL have the power within us to shape that clay to our choosing ...
to form blessing or a bane, to create something to recall and cherish,
or something to cast onto the breath of indifference and apathy ...
to receive with joy and reward, or let drive us into defeat.
No one moment is any more or less extraordinary than another,
except in regard to how we shape it, or how we let it shape US ...
for learning to appreciate ALL the moments in this journey,
is learning to be truly happy ... truly ... at peace.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the ZEN Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 9th Place ~ in the "In The Moment Of Time" Poetry Contest, Kai Michael Neumann, Judge & Sponsor.
First of all in regard to this verse
God here is speaking to His elect
for He names them lovingly His beloved
such love so pure believers willingly detect
God brings many a promise to His own
He's not at all slow for them to fulfil
despite how some think wait too long
for all His acts are spot on in His will
The Lord is full of divine patience
waiting and seeking for His very own
by His holy spirit in His effectual draw
pointing to Calvary their sin He did atone
To fulfil the demands of the saviour
God grants His own the gift of repentance
then they come in a spirit of humility
bowing in homage at His dependence
This election is not for all of the world
again God's showing this for those He chose
from before the world began marking them out
for Christ died only for them this God knows
("The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.") 2 Peter 3: 9 (KJV)
HANDMADE FROM (the genes of) BOYCE AND HARRIET HARRIS
(poetry my atypical mode at introducing myself).
How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.
Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.
Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual! The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.
I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.
Form: