Long Increased Poems
Long Increased Poems. Below are the most popular long Increased by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Increased poems by poem length and keyword.
Dawn broke
The eastern pink sky
Drew across the stars
As they faded and lost to the night
I called the eagle
To guide me
Piercing whistle
That I learnt as a boy
Running wild and free
I walked in the company of men
High above, eagles flew
The wraiths are coming from the otherworld too
Carrying the angst and pain
That has no place and name
Here at Heartstone
The screeching and wailing
Increased hideously
The tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
I stood, with the company of men
My bow ready
Arrows drawn
Arm, steady
I have trained to defend
Truth and love
Nobility
Chivalry
The wraiths gathered
The screeching and wailings
Piercing through
To our souls
We are ready
To fight to the end
To defend
All that is true
The flight of an arrow
Unleashed
Steadied by the eagles’ feather
Of brown and gold
It flew
Straight and true
In to the non existent heart
Of a wraith bitter and cold
It was this I slew
A bundle of rags fell
For it is not the metal tip
That killed
It was the feather of a Heartstone Eagle
Truth be told
That slew
A wraith, bitter and cold
The wraiths flew
From behind the mountain
The screeching and wailing
Tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
They came in their hundreds
To fall
For, truth and love
From a feather
Of a mighty eagle above
Slew the hearts
Bitter and cold
Brown and gold glow
Flashing by
The flight of an arrow
The archers
Standing tall
The gleam of brown and gold
That flew
Deep in to the cold bitter hearts
Of stories now told
Of men of the longbow
I reached
I pulled
Many arrows to fly
Of a star
Of a longbow
Aquila am I
The longbow of dark wood
Felt my strength
As I clasped its’ bronze inlaid feathers
And reached
And pulled
Arrows of brown and gold
Deep into wraiths
Its’ purpose understood
The sky turned black
With eagles that twisted and turned
Of wraiths, slain
Felled by the longbow
Down they fell
In to their own stinking hell
The brown and gold aglow
Darkness falling
The fires lit so bright
In a company of men
That celebrated under starlight
Remember….
This day well
When the archers
Masters of the longbow
Sent the wraiths back
To their stinking hell
Of Aquila
Who slew
More than most
The flight of an arrow
That holds true
In remembrance of a time
Myself, unknowingly was formless and empty
Darkness blocking out the light
Consumed of worldly chaos.
Then one day the light was revealed
Now being able to look back in my life seeing God
Was hovering around until that day
Revealing the darkness that holds one captive
In Christ promised spirit to set one ablaze
To destroy the land one has created on their own
Are received from mankinds deceitful planting
In seeing this world in a whole
Is everything going against God
As always, only to be revealed through
The quickening and manifesting of removing darkness
Not of own works but through the light
Seeing there is this battle within
But light shines out the darkness
That Christ might be the rising light into day
Harvesting in the morning glory of His work
Consumed of His newfound and inexpressible
Joy, peace, and love for all.
May , God bless, comfort, guide and fill you
With His peace, love, spirit and joy in abundance.
That one might be separated
From, night unto a newfound day
Old self unto New living being
Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
Genesis 1:2?-?5 NIV
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder.
Isaiah 9:2?-?3 NIV
The sun will no more be your light by day, nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you, for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory.
Isaiah 60:19 NIV
Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darkness. See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness. Therefore, if your whole body is full of light, and no part of it dark, it will be just as full of light as when a lamp shines its light on you.”
Luke 11:34?-?36 NIV
Form:
Serious sibling subluxation...
rapprochement somewhat salvaged dislocation
Truth be told about following poem
mostly written quite some years ago,
and revisions made to recreate
and revise a more satisfactory literary product.
This trademark ungainly, unsightly,
and unwieldy title essentially
huzzah mask ***** aid,
(my humble apology NOT
to incite unwanted
and unwonted anger
among lgbtqia community),
and accentuates tendency
(mine) to administer
reverent unpretentious yawping,
sans (asper thy usual)
wordy, quirky, nutty, heady, easy...
and gallimaufry charade,
though pointed lament
decries copious blather,
which awareness (in tandem
with better devilishly cherubic angels)
prevail upon sesquipedalian
nippy nap noopy quirkiness, might be
in my best (in show)
interest to evade
leaving an unsuspecting
reader psychologically frayed,
and without doubt prematurely
finds same cyber surfer
harried and grayed,
styled akin to experience dramatic,
and sudden onset of progeria
hence, a concerted effort
will be orchestrated, i.e.made
so everyone involved woodwind
fur me (a hip cat) tabby
conscientiously choosing
meow me modus operandi
to mute trumpeting,
associated with this one man
faltering hit parade,
hence, an intent to write
swiftly tailored and more clearly,
cogently, and creditably
qua more understandable to invite,
subsequently witnessing, an
increased authorial fan
base, and unite
easy to comprehend
underlying intelligent conversation,
and/or share something trite,
anyway, thee impetus regarding
risking emailing a younger sister,
where repressed spite led
to dissolution, née cessation
of brotherly linkedin communication
engendered me to make right
egregious emotional estrangement,
principally vitiated, nursed,
generated, augmented
(thank you very much) by me,
viz in sum avoidance behavior
(traipsing, purring, loping,
humming, and doodling along) quite
familiarly, easily, (no matter
discontentedly), alas and alack
moment seemed apropos
for this only bro
their to allow, enable,
and proffer selflessness -
pushing aside ego
(mine) and attempt to go
for the gusto hoe
embarking, kickstarting, and
resolving upon reasonable resolutions
to convey persevere re-establishing
cordiality, despite misgivings
toward Shari Todd
thee family member in question.
Cuz while ya steel got
moxie, don't nix chance if only a dot
before death finds
flesh rotting alot.
A self-actualized fringe benefit
as I racked up
orbitz round sun -
with increased measured,
(albeit neglected) ragged, and
shot thru tattered (turn shroud) -
regarding chronological yardage
brought to my dimming wattage -
sputtering third eye blind, sans
hindsight surveying extensive
emotionally frenzied groveling with
a lifetime penitential wreckage,
whence urgent critical (update)
foisted upon formerly entrenched
hermetically sealed voyage -
sequestered self wrought fallout,
viz long stretches of
time irretrievably gone with the wind
found me averse toward
commingling with village -
peopled within sin king
precincts of Lake Woebegone
joyus kneaded livingsocial
natives, now visa
vis (nee this past
and present atheist)
discovered the healing power
of powder milk biscuits,
when accommodated within Norwegian
bachelor farmer vicarage),
qua pained obligation now
imposed kickstarted mandate
to pay dying wage
clearly written along,
the sub weighted psyche walls
(over time) easily read
across my wrinkled visage,
where former cumulative
years of existence
pitched yours truly
figuratively teetering upon
precipice of abyss gave vantage
written in telltale creases
countenance spelling umbrage,
against me - asper tonnage
schlepping psychological Matthew
Scott Harris "baggage,"
wrought from decades
worth of uncultivated tillage
cuz n'er did I gather rosebuds...
during prime mortal teenage
stretch, thus present
day agonizing suffrage
yawning chasm miserably houses
bleak (Dickensian) testimony,
sans recovered anorexic
(NO...NOT... NEVER
bulimic), but feebly
endured desultory stage
punctuated quasi (moat)
towed riddled rattle trap ship
of state into deadly scrimmage
defies propped up
moxie succombing unrelenting
weathering, unforgiving savage
nasty, brutal and short sabotage,
wherein futile - short
changed growh opportunities
forfeited developmental stage
opportunities introverted
vehemence doth rage.
Once there was a famous king,
More famous than Ozymandias.
His name was King Wolf.
Sultan was his nickname.
He called himself a benevolent despot;
And his style of government
A ‘democratic dictatorship.’
He spoke good English—
A foreign language, though;
Only a minor problem with 'l' and 'r':
Once, for instance, a reporter asked him,
"What about elections, Your Majesty?"
His response:
"Why, I have them everyday!"
The poor reporter was thoroughly confused.
His kingdom was a land of superlatives:
The oldest civilization,
The largest standing army,
The largest population,
The largest exporter—of people,
The largest emitter of carbon dioxide,
Now the second largest exporter of goods, too,
And will soon be the largest.
Since his was the most populous kingdom,
Demography was his obsession,
Which he called his specialization.
Of course, Sultan had tried his best
To check population growth—
By means of family planning.
It didn't work.
So he curbed people’s Right to have children.
But still there was a huge difference
Between the optimum number
And ground reality!
Therefore, Sultan hatched a wonderful plan:
Started a war with a friendly neighbour.
Every section of twenty soldiers in his army
Had just one primitive rifle between them:
If a soldier went on,
He would be shot.
If he went back,
Again, he would be shot.
A Catch-22!
Many of his men were slaughtered.
But still Sultan won—by sheer numbers!
Oh, God!
But the King did not believe in God.
Like king, like people!
But the dead soldiers were only a small number.
So, now another plan:
Government is the boss.
Let people overwork.
Sultan cracked the whip.
And a number of people died—
Of overwork, year after year.
Further reduction in population.
Production increased:
Cheap goods flooded the world market:
From PCs to push-up bras.
No warranty.
The economy boomed.
Ah, his kingdom became a Big Power!
But once some workers gathered
In the Capital and protested—
Against exploitation.
The name of Karl Marx was in the air.
“Listen,” Sultan roared, “Marx died—
Long ago.
So should you—now,
For raising his name in vain.”
So, still further reduction in population!
Now, when this narrative ended,
Sultan was busy, planning for another war.
Poor soul!
How else could he solve the problem—
Of overpopulation?!
***
This day has resulted to something I have to confess.
I am greatly and deeply in Love with you.
My soul ponders anytime I just think of you.
Your face has increased the number of chambers my heart has.
I long to be your groom,, while you be my Bride.
Your beauty have I known right from time past,
and admired ever since I saw you.
I will feel so Jealous if you commit yourself to some one else.
And your time, shared grossly with another,
even if that person is your family.
Come to my empire of Love,
which flows with wonders of happiness and peace.
Give me the chance to prove to you,
that Love actually takes two to manifest.
come into my arms which are wide open
and feel the passionate warmth of my embrace.
Just as in all the books of Love.
My kisses overflow with the deepest passion of everlasting desires.
Desires not of lust,, nor of unquenching taste.
But that of fullness,, completeness and fulfillment.
I may be using too many big words here.
or using figurative expressions in this sincere letter of mine.
or even trying to make it look like a poem.
But all in all, I just want to say one thing.
I LOVE YOU LIKE I HAVE NEVER LOVED BEFORE
This is a special letter, coming from a special person
To another special person, on a special timing.
I really want to be that special person in your life
The one who will be your everything.
Your man, your soul mate, your dream
Your desires, your passion, your life.
Your present, your future, your hope,
Your love, your happiness, your peace.
Your laughter, your inspiration, your joy.
I want to be there for you always even when I am not there.
I want to store my name and soul in your heart
So that wherever you are ,there I will be also.
After God, I want you to be next in my Life.
I want you to want me and love me like I do.
I want our feelings to be complementary to each other.
All my wants and needs sum up to one thing.
I want to have your love.
Just give me the chance to be your man
To be your one and only.
To be everything you had ever wanted
I don’t know how else to say this
And this is becoming too plenty to be real.
And not even a million scriptures
with a million pages each are enough
for me to express a negligible amount
of how I need you and feel towards you;
even if this is too voluminous to remember,
Just remember one thing sweet heart,
And that is………..
I LOVE YOU BABY.
Pleasant spring like day January 12th, 2020
Courtesy climate change
(think global warming),
I would never wish to exchange
unseasonable temperature
way out of range
far to balmy, undoubtedly
ole man winter
weather did shortchange.
Once thermometer readings rise
even smidgen one moost not minimize
Earth way out of balance,
I haint gonna catastrophize
as bajillion acres plus
one after another ocean dries
even the skeptic cannot turn
blind eye and believe contrary lies
when every species practically extinct
and self proclaimed éminence grise
doth trumpet and stubbornly tries
to claim plethora unearthed resources
as sudden goldmine
against wages of sin
former traitor joe redeemers actualize
to catalyze nth industrial revolution
teaching as heresy
ecocentric, which material basket
of deplorables power mongers bowdlerize
Concurrence toward meteorological
trend most all people agree
toward adapting, experiencing,
and witnessing increase -
fair in height degree
bestowed upon Thomas Newcomen,
Richard Arkwright, Samuel Crompton,
Edmund Cartwright
and James Watt first Industrial
Revolution conferred as honoree
appellation not necessarily
in retrospect donned as noble pedigree,
now hundred of years
later downside we see
of belching, coughing,
disorging... yes siree
foul, (née deadly)
cancerous, gaseous, noxious... pollutants.
Decreased dissension
grudgingly did abate
unclouded protests trumpet
Trump to abdicate
irrefutable proof generates
activist voices to accumulate
linkedin over Green Party
blessedly to administrate
hoop fully figurative tide
will turn and aerate
political atmosphere whereby
progressive minds will affiliate
otherwise business as usual,
cuz spewing deadly particulate
will only aggravate
dire straits, where series
of unfortunate events will airdate
prophetic apocalyptic fate
especially if nonprogressive
stodgy commander in chief re-elected
flush with bigotry and hate
increased chance (chants) ripe state
for revolution avast swath
of population to amalgamate,
and overthrow anachronistic government
absolute zero survival unless dramatic
nondestructive strategy eschewed
to supplant exploitation and mandate
radical transformation, which dramatic
shift off grid if lucky requisite
Earth friendly manufacturing
can possibly ameliorate.
Just in case you wondered...
Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy
regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore
alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge
(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...
Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)
getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.
insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten
pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...
Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...
Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent
return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous
analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby
microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.
1 John 4:18 (KJV)
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
Basically there are two paths you can walk: faith or fear. It's impossible to simultaneously trust God and not trust God. ~ Charles Stanley
I was afraid to take my first step
There was pain in falling to my knees
But I finally walked, always progressing
Into the toddler who would hurry from
One room to the next, always delighted
With my finds which led to me to explore
Everywhere I went, inside and outside
Under rocks and under beds, in closets
And beneath tables, wherever I might find
The chance to awaken my soul to insights
I was afraid to stand up and read in front
Of my classmates as a child who was learning
To know the difference in a noun and a verb
The way to speak certain sentences with a
Gentle voice or more dramatic expression
Of what was given to me on the sweet pages
That would eventually lead me to finding
The best answers, greatest treasures of
Imagination and victories, the sources of my
Hopes and dreams, encouragements and beliefs
I was afraid to listen to my heart’s soft influence
The first time I kissed someone who held the
Key to my heart and my most intimate thoughts
With their kindness and grace they could hurt me
And sway me away from the ideas to which I clung
Giving me the opportunity to grow and learn from
All the beauties they would open up to my world
Healing and enchanting. Splendors of great worth
Whispering to my spirit about faith, hope and love
Brilliant inspirations sent down from God above
I was afraid and fear sometimes gripped my soul
With talons of deep ebony which longed for a victory
This fear begged me to let go of my hopes and prayers
Live on the chains of it’s deceiving confinement
Warning me that faith would lead me to know pain
In ways that I would like to avoid, but still I choose
To do the things that brought me through the fear
Into a deeper relationship with faith, which would
Slowly lead me through all the fears I might cling to
Despite my worst anxieties, faith increased inside of me
Fear lost the victory and now faith is the winner who
Leads me down the path of hopes and dreams which
Increase every day, and strengthen me as I pray
© 2009 (Jim Sularz)
Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, by wagon, train or foot.
Days not all that long ago, in tall ships made of wood.
“A gold rush struck in ’49, all quite by accident.
A burning fever that cut men to bone, in a sea of dingy tents.
Day and night, they toiled and told, many headed home without a cent.
But some packed out bags of glistening gold, and made a stop at Buzzard’s Breath.
The town’s mud logged street, deep with horse manure, bubbled like a shallow grave.
With a Sheriff’s office, a livery stable, and a church for souls to save.
And a fancy house, on a grassy knoll – sign read, “Madam Lil la Tart”.
With soft, curvaceous ladies who mined for hearts – and gold of a different sort.
Didn’t take long before easy gold, was extremely hard to find.
And burly miners, tough as steel, moved in to hard rock mine.
With bloodied knuckles, dented hats, they blasted at a furious pace.
To find the gold, called the mother lode, yellow blood coursing through their veins!
The mine they worked was called “Long Shot”, the men thought that name a curse.
But the miners hankered for the handle, “Buzzard’s Breath”, and the mine’s name was reversed.
As luck would say, they held a royal flush, when they hit that horse-wide vein.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found, this side of the Pearly Gates.
Eyes wide as saucers, they were all in awe, everyone was filthy rich.
The miners should have all retired and should have cashed in all their chips.
But a man’s hard to figure, when his blood is yellow, and he’s stricken with a gold fever.
“Eureka! boys, git the dynamite and a whole lot more mining timbers!”
They mined that vein to the bowels of the earth, and the heat increased by day.
Buzzard’s Breath became the hottest place, to Hell – the shortest way.
And then one day, the men never came back. – Hell must have jumped that claim.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found – that’s where the Devil mines today!”
Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, died a slow and quiet death.
Along with days of tall wooden ships, and the ghosts of Buzzard’s Breath.