Long Intentioned Poems
Long Intentioned Poems. Below are the most popular long Intentioned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intentioned poems by poem length and keyword.
hey math tutor, I need help.
kids with questions - five at once!
multitasking, aging, geezer.
too much, too much, who needs help?
tasks need doing, people are waiting.
computers, phones, even TVs
are mind-boggling electro-monstrosities
gotta be there, gonna be late
car breaks down again, why now?
did I hurt her feelings or maybe his?
what is she expecting, anyway, and when?
I must improve my mindreading.
to prove myself I must work harder -
give a hundred ten percent
where am I gonna get that extra ten?
lose some sleep? borrow some money?
hey, buddy back off, that ain't funny.
hey mister, watch your step.
I'm a walking time bomb razor
time for me to go ballistic.
maybe I just got pushed too far.
whoa - time out.
kids got 18 years to learn.
they will be ok.
which of those tasks need doing?
which of those things can wait?
I think the world still spins without me.
my friends know i'm well intentioned
things will work out - it's ok.
I don't have to prove myself.
hey, buddy, nice to see you.
it sure is a beautiful day.
Appreciation;
It is not the shallow coinage of a passing phrase,
Nor the cheap, superfluous noise of sudden praise.
It is an active stillness, an observant eye
That watches worth accumulate as time goes by.
In relationships, it guards a quiet space,
Not loudly spoken, but a deep, perceived grace
A silent validation that reduces stress,
Unseen, unnoticed, yet returning happiness.
Whether in kind or cash, the same true engine moves:
An asset climbs in worth, as scarcity approves.
A house that stands at a quarter-million pounds,
May gain fifty thousand as its demand compounds.
While cars depreciate the moment they are driven,
The stock, the art, the bond, like love, are given
A steady upward trajectory, a rising line,
Increasing in their stature by the law of time.
For whether in the market or the mental health,
To appreciate is simply to acknowledge wealth.
One counts the rising currency the markets hold,
The other guards a priceless piece of human gold.
Appreciation is intentioned act, an active visible action
Recognized, not said, not verbalised like daily ration
Valued, not shallow worded expression of gratitude
Its inwardly felt, guarded a piece of good quietude.
It’s noticed, observed by valued to the valuing person
A moment, not a comment of a superfluous person
Value the the one who stood and caught you from falling
You never know the dept. you would have been sprawling
It's Not You
It's Me
Actually in Truth
That's a Small White Lie
I have been cheating on you
For a While now
Having Passionate Sex
With another Guy
And i have been thinking it over
for a while now
And i Think
Yes
We Should
Break - Up
BAM
SLAM
There it Is
Signed , Sealed , Delivered
Love's Equivalent of an
Imploding
Suicide Vest
Destination
1
Single Victim
SLAM
You have been Served
Once upon a time Smitten
Planning a Wedding Fitting
To being , Reduced to
Tears before Bed
And obsessing over what you actually
Did Wrong
Or
Could have done or said
Instead
To make her stay
Or
Love you Back
And when good intentioned
Friends and Random People
Quote the Recently Dumped
Break-Up Bible
Stating there are
Plenty More Fish in the Sea
Remember this
Slam
It's also 2 choc full of
Sharks
&
Predators
Like the 1 that just
Dumped You
Rather look at this from a different Perspective
Using another age old fishing analogy
Given enough Time
You will never ever Say
She was a Keeper
Or
Be Refered to as
The 1 that
Got Away
More like the
Wrong Shoes
Or
Wrong tool for the Job
Thank God
Detritus
Sitting there, honey,
Cleansed and bathed,
Scented with lilac and rose,
Glistening at your dressing table, and
Eyeing yourself in the chrome mirror;
I, as your guest, sit by and watch,
Astonished at your well-intentioned revealings,
Seeing your young beauty at morning tide,
As hands and fingers apply the detritus,
To nineteen year-old eyes, awash in teen wisdom.
I sense there is something you want to say,
As you lean toward your reflection there,
Smearing scarlet on wet open lips,
Your unbuttoned camisole dangling loosely,
Upon your shimmering backside,
But finding a foothold upon your upturned breast.
And here I sit, astonished again,
At the perennial return of one endless ritual
After another.
Zounds!
Do you realize I cannot resist you?
Yet it makes me wonder,
If you want me to make love to you.
Yes, I wonder.
Well, shall we just dispense
With this slow dance in the darkness?
Look at me!
Zounds!
I will make you dance!
O to be a poet!
What must I do?
Need special rhymes
I pursue…
perhaps elegant forms
transcending more common,
like Midas touch
words golden~ a poet’s Mammon!
O when will an artist get honored
due – afford even a stove without a hand
operated flue; companion after companion
in wraps, out the door, shouting,
a chilling~ I love you...but I’m Through!
Unable to fill her stomach enough
with elegant phrases, with grand sketches
on pages, while her less
enamored friends render their prosperous
soulmates lavish praises: hooked up with
lawyers and doctors, learned researchers,
doing battle with nature’s debilitating curses --
politicians…? O Well, no one’s perfect
while everyone agreeing, the dedicated
artist, is such a well-intentioned, thoughtful bloke
the irate landlord shaking his head, again bemoaning
I know...late with the rent, still broke….
No matter how well intentioned anyone appears to be.
God says there's only one we can trust and that simply is He.
No one's better than another, we're all made the same.
God started with two people. Adam and Eve is their name.
God says people who think they're better, has a problem with pride.
He says they are like whitewashed graves, with dead bones inside.
The one who thinks they have all answers, appearing so cool.
But in Proverbs 28:26 Their Creator calls them a FOOL!
With money, fame and or fortune, they still don't have a clue.
Revelation 20:12 says "We'll be judged by what we do!
Jesus is our template, for others we should care.
Let the selfish and arrogant know that the Bible says beware!
Open a Bible and ask God to please speak to you.
Write down the things you feel He told you to do.
Any thoughts you have that say to love other's and share.
I can tell you from experience, that God is speaking there.
He says if the crowd is moving one way, it's most surely wrong.
The Bible will show us the way, and to whom we belong!
We are all under a curse and it causes us all to sin.
That means family, loved ones, our enemies and friends.
We all will account to God ourselves for choosing our own way.
You alone. No one else will have to explain it to Him one day!
Once Upon a Law
Long lines at midnight bring cheers
to the cathedrals, immune to forgotten laws.
Circles in the sand, circles in the air, around
and around, laws are thrown against the sky, but no
one can see them, the sky has no limits on suffering,
and daylight brings more laws.
Well-intentioned aristocrats send money and
celebrities, where law has vanished.
Wanderers know the sunshine needs laws to survive,
their wandering searches for light.
Now, the airplanes fly faster, and taxicabs ignore all
the traffic laws….people talk faster….. walk faster,
something is about to happen, I hope it’s tomorrow,
I hope
…… It’s tomorrow
Another Fall rolls around
The time of the year
I start getting that tingling feeling
When I get my new families
And plan their Christmas baskets
The more kids the better
Gifts, clothes, books
Colouring pencils
Sports equipment
Crafts and gadgets
Things to expand their minds
Inspire confidence
Develop their curiosity
Enough to last the year
Enough to make them feel fortunate
Hopefully even ignite a passion
Bound to launch them
In a new direction
I’ll likely never know
What came out of the seeds I sowed
Of the thoughts and good wishes
That accompanied those abundantly
Well-intentioned Christmas baskets
AP: 3rd place 2020
I have been a sieve bucket
Of shiny plastic parts,
Containing reasonable sands of logic, time and place-
Drastically mixed with the fluidity of natural human race,
And oddly and inconveniently, a subspace
For an awkwardly large heart.
Why has its energy, connective and warm,
Imploded my zone of comfort?
Its vibrations teemed my walls, exploited my woes
Which till now have composed me quite conveniently
In perfect shell form?
I have molded realities into peaks and castles,
Beautiful for a brief moment as life’s own art,
Yet crumbling too soon into shackles-
The sand’s plans (though well intentioned)
Never seem to properly span across
This aforementioned large heart?
I have ignored its pulsing cries of recognition,
Smashed its value to the depths of nothingness
To breach partitions of Universal fate’s recipe
For flow and season in forced perfection;
Yet muddied and worn, wretched and torn,
It still giggles and glows-
Defying all logical reason.
In anguish I have begged, dear heart, for disintegration!
Why do you lay idle in seeming nonchalance?
Why have you not flooded these holes of my soul
And flowed out to which creation compels me?
Will Love and light ever overflow my muddy plastic half?
I smugly wait and listen in demand of a response!
A few beats, a laugh.
You shine upon me for a quiet moment, wretchedly glistening.
Have I dared to set aside my fear and gain the courage to finally listen?
The message you have needed to convey
Resonates to me quietly,
In recognition of my soul’s ambition:
“Why don’t you merely give me away?”
A simple response, I answer in action (in giving to you, my true):
For I begin building my fate only from today;
Creating with purpose and satisfaction,
Eternally anew.
Many years ago, I was in a down-heartened funk, after deciding to get a little bit drunk.
Beer guzzling queens won’t tell you, but liquor tastes bad going down and coming back up is truly no joy.
Some will tell you how great drinking liquor makes them feel, happy, and wonderful. But they’re full of bunk
Being wasted, angry, crying, and a bit mean is no way to meet any kind of a man or dating boy
And if you are completely silly, to hug, or touch or god forbid fore take in a sloppy drunk kiss
I must tell you the story of a naïve woman who got herself in a real pickle in St. Croix
If you are already completely wasted, and angry, and mean, this warning you will probably dismiss
This sordid tale of a girl, a boy, a golden pony, a red flute that laughed, and a shiny green Shamrock
The way this tale was told to me, by my gram, it entered my ears totally unbiased and Faultless
There was a pipe, and a honey bee, and a well-intentioned, prettied up edible pink and plump Ham hock
I do remember someone laughing, and a foot being broken, and a yellow three cent postage stamp.
There was a nickel’s worth of lead, and an angry man, and a princess in a lavender and pink Frock
The men crowded around to watch Trixie Lou dance, for she was a well-known, conniving, trickster of a Vamp
In my inebriated state, I can recall but one bit of the story that has any bearing now.
Grandpa’s dream girl was a devious witch of a woman according to Big Ma, a hard-hearted Tramp
Told by Big Ma, Trixie was a flaunter, a floozy, a conniver, a flute-playing nasty old cow,
She had pink cheeks, sky blue eyes, and she wore her red curls pinned with green shamrocks; she was all kinds of pretty.
This information was slipped to me in whispers by Grandpa, who considered Trixie a giant wow.