Long Intents Poems
Long Intents Poems. Below are the most popular long Intents by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intents poems by poem length and keyword.
While strolling on this summer morn so fair
with warming sun rays soft upon my cheeks
and gentle breezes blowing through my hair,
a tender dulcet day without a care,
I deeply ponder thoughts to which life speaks.
A red-winged blackbird floats along the breeze
and lights upon a cattail by the lake;
his trills lamenting sights for which he pleas,
pollution everywhere is all he sees.
I wonder if mankind will e’er awake?
A bullfrog sitting by the water’s edge
upon a lily pad, he croaks his tune
lamenting all around the withered sedge
that’s littered with debris his croaks allege.
I wonder if mankind will wise up soon?
For it is we who, through our careless deeds,
have scarred the beauty of this precious land
to satisfy our selfish greedy needs
without a single thought to where this leads,
intents upon fulfilling our demands.
But are we not the keepers of this earth,
the ones who, nature’s beauty, must preserve
for future generations, giving birth
to Mother Nature’s everlasting worth?
If not then we will get what we deserve.
June 26, 2023
Heart is where my home finds graceful relationship,
where my soul simply breathes
beneath my memories of becoming,
of being at my best,
sometimes my worst,
but always my most full, complete,
most abundantly contentious
and both loudly out
and quietly in
content.
Home unveils life's liturgy.
This home wherein I was conceived
and born
rebirths me each dawn
and decomposes all my dreams
where I grow up and out,
where siblings moved away
from whom I married,
from where I buried my grandparents,
and then my parents.
As my body houses identity
my home houses body.
While home and self-identity
I can distinguish,
one self from other,
this is never a benign
or wisely severe discrimination;
better as a distinction
without prospects today for contented difference;
dishearted separation.
My soul and mind and body fade and wilt
withdrawn by force and circumstance
from embryonic being.
To awaken or sleep away
in any profanely alien place,
without power or even hope to return
to more sacred memoried space,
fades my eyes and ears and nose,
my skin down to my spinal bones,
despair this senseless loss of sense
of life and breath and bread that once was mine
and could be mine to share again.
My home is where I live
my view of neighbors and town and Earth and life
flowing sedately toward, then past too quickly
on my backyard river of memory,
greeting ducks and swans
herons and eagles soaring by
to hunt this fertile rippling home with me
now fading into memory
as shades of sympathy
not entropy,
sad self-isolating apathy
from my heart's dismembering womb.
Lavish price for a new bodied home
invites sublimating new constructions
with best familiar practices and intents,
artifacts of golden memories from past days
and life
and loves
reframed by unfamiliar
but grace welcoming
trees
and birds
and a few persistent weeds.
You used to be a part of me
Now all I do is make believe
What friends are left, now all they see
Is how my life is incomplete
I went ahead and changed my name
To Incomplete as of late
At any given time of day
That's the statement that I make
Through all intents and purposes
I'll make it through the worst of this
Remembering our relationship
And all that I poured into it
Now as Mr. Incomplete
I walk alone along these city streets
Remembering the better half of me
And how it all used to be
Things have never been the same
Since with your help I changed my name
Want you to know it's not to late
To change it back if you'll just say
But as it is in all of this
I'm living out my emptiness
All of this came more or less
On the day that you left
You made me out to who I am
That, no more than half a man
Mr. Incomplete is where I stand
Known far and wide throughout the land
The graying of days
Devouring of food becomes the filler !
Days healing rays, it’s light ever shorter !
Misty moments are becoming thicker !
Fog hangs heavy, becoming ever denser !
The rut I am in, becomes ever wider !
The grove I am stuck in, cuts ever deeper !
The abyss I am sinking into, ever bleaker !
The black hole I am sucked into. ever blacker !
The razor’s edge I walk upon, ever sharper !
It cuts ever deeper into the flesh, of my feet
as I walk the tight rope of life, in my sleep !
Awake, I wonder why ?. I hang onto this life,
a life that is going nowhere as I stand
upon the keen edges of it, of a knife.
A knife that seems to be in my own hand,
wanting, for all intents, to cut me in two.
During these moments, there is little I can do !
B. J. “A” 2
June 5th 2005
A single word was all it took
To shatter my resolve and make me open a door
A single word I could only hear
Because I've been popping placebos for months
Blocked from your voice, but not your words
Under no fault of either of ours, just a misunderstanding
Yet the sight of those words was enough
To shake the world I built from ashes to its very core
I responded in kind and gave into curiosity
Checked to see if the heavy castle walls and chains you built
Still remained to this day, but I quickly learned
I was the reason you set them, and the reason you cut them
I unlocked my doors in kind, yet to heavy trepidation
And the anxiety rocked my core to bits
For you attempt to return the world to its old status quo
As an agent of Law to fight the tide of Chaos
So I shuttered the windows once more
Locked my doors and sent my new kingdom into the sky
Twenty two years I've roamed this earth now
And I've no time to let old abusers back into my castle
I'm not the same broken toy you could return to play with at your whim
Shattered as I may be, I'm stronger on my own than I've ever been
Of course, not completely alone, as a cherry blossom casts shade upon me
And was the unwitting mast I needed to weather the storm
Regardless of how you feel, the changes you may have made
No matter how strong you've gotten in our absence
No matter if you're the opposite of how you once were
I'll never forget the old nightmares you made me live
Not a matter of strength; I'm more than strong enough
I made a new life, stronger than before
I just don't need you poisoning my wells
If not with cyanide, than with anxiety
I don't need your memory tainting the new life
I won't be seeing your face in my nightmares and dreams
For all intents and purposes, you're an ink blot on a burnt book
And thus, silence reigns
Granted with life everlasting through the Spirit’s sword*
I’m indeed born again by God’s Word.
As quickened by the spiritual sword miraculously
My soul yearns to be revived for meaningful existence blissfully.
Constantly, I strive to please the Lord by faith, led by the Holy Spirit
Enlivened by His empowering truth, the Scriptures’ writ.
Worshiping Christ, exalting the Saviour midst praise-filled gratitude
My spirit abides in Him, cleaving to His sword to vanquish evil’s magnitude.
Hence, when carnality prevails hindering my service of compassion-gestures
I yield to the sword of the Spirit that can mortify selfish ventures.
*Ephesians 6:17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
Hebrews 4:12 For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.
December 10, 2019
2nd place, "If you live by the sword then you die by the sword" Poetry Contest; Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 12/15/2019.
Extricated from chains of religious fanaticism
Here am I, your dear heart*, blissfully exultant
Freely exalting the gracious Redeemer
Whose compassion reached out to your soul
Pardoning you against everlasting condemnation.
Quickened toward great revival from lukewarm fellowship
Here am I, your dear heart, triumphantly rejoicing
Adoring worshipfully Almighty God
Who marvelously wrought new birth in your spirit
Enabling you to partake of His granted divine nature.
Inspired to labor not to gain worldly fame, but to glorify the King of kings
Here am I, your dear heart, yielded to His leadership
Drawing nigh to His altar, abiding in the will of the Master
Who alone knows perfectly your motives and intents
Blessing your stewardship of earnestly ministering to others.
Anchored upon precepts’ verities, defying sand-braced dogmas
Here am I, your dear heart, championing holy convictions
Expressing your scriptural faith granted by the Lord
Who sanctifies you in your heavenly journey through His Word
Vouching your sincere testimony, even your prayed-for poetry.
Yet, grieving over vanity’s grip when your carnality reigns
Here am I, your dear heart, succumbing to frustration-attacks
Lamenting as I beseech the loving Saviour
Whose tender mercies can purify your flesh
Constraining you to present your body a living sacrifice unto Him.
*Psalm73:26 My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
January 17, 2020
2nd place, "Dear Heart" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 1/19/2020.
“Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of God.” 2Corinthians 3:5 of the King James Bible
Abyss of my heart does crave for contentment bliss
Bestowed only by the gracious Almighty Source…
Yes, I yearn for God’s grace to fill this vacuum
Surely He can suffice and satisfy so well
Since His loving goodness steadfastly settles me.
Oh, my heart-mended chasm echoes thanksgiving praise
Freely offered to Christ Who grants forgiveness’ peace.
My heart seeks the Saviour for His approval nod
Yet admits selfishness, confessing sinfulness.
Here is my innermost, exposing depths of heart
Earnestly praying with faith strength for wise guidance
Aware that I do need the Lord’s omniscient eyes
Readily searching pure motives midst intents’ blight
Trying and testing them toward triumphant toils.
December 13, 2021
Acrostic with alliteration and modified Alexandrine (12 syllables per line checked with PS Syllable Counter)
1st place, " 'A' Forms, New Poems, 10 or more lines" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 12/22/2021.
Self destruction feels like normalcy
Sober life feels like a chore to me
Wanting peace and craving chaos Is a war to me
Pictures in my head tell me who I oughtta be
But with the weight of my vices I feel like I lack autonomy
There’s a lot of reasons to drink these days.
That’s what makes it hard to escape
Surviving in this economic landscape
Working at a sex shop is sour grapes
Especially when the wage is a low rate
When the night is gone the sun breaks
The empty room at “home’s” a reminder of my mistakes
Drunk alone and sitting on a milk crate
Cans of PBR around my feet
I’m feeling like a reprobate
Those times make me wonder why I ever did it.
But then the 7th beer you slugged down hits
And Youre reminded how it formed a habit
Music feels like ecstasy abd magic
And suddenly Youre friends with the whole planet
Youre calm in situations where most panic
And there’s always a party even when you don’t plan it.
I guess it’s the fun I really miss
I remember when I was young
We hit the bottle and the bong for a little fun
The cannabis had helped me when my brain runs
But enough time on the bottle. I come full undone.
I burned my life down around myself more than once
The worst part about it is I didn’t care
For all intents and purposes I wasn’t there
I had a lot on my shoulders to be fair
But what was once fun turned into routine despair.
On the streets and on my own, headed nowhere
But even when my life fell into disrepair
My only constant was the bottle, akways there
Thats more than I can say for most people in my life.
But don’t get it twisted i Aint bitter
I won’t dismiss the role I played either
But I still weathered famine and stormy weather
In the faintest of hopes that I would get better.
Then when you decide to stop, no one ever tells you
About what happens when you withdraw
Spending a week or two curled up in a ball
Feeling like someone flung at a wall
While the voices in your head scream thst Youre the worst of all.
There’s no help out in the world too
Everyone will tell only god can save you
But with all the I been through
Forgive me if I’m skeptical
And find these empty platitudes are untrue
They will see you as less, and you’ll never change that.
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck,
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck,
Blocking all the streets
In the centre of town,
To all intents and purposes
Closing the city down.
The police were very tolerant,
Withdrawing their attack
After more than one officer suffered
From a wielded walking stick's whack.
The atmosphere changed
Soon after that
Lots of bonhomie
Banter and chit chat.
The action was called offi
Promptly at five to three
Thus allowing each
To be home in time for tea.
The action wasn't called
For any cause or good:
No it was carried out
Just to show they could.
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck.
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck.