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.
Oh, my Beloved Africa
Why are you always so behind time
Why is it that the world always has to be miles ahead
For you to follow in the trail of dust they leave behind
Oh, my Beloved Motherland
Why is it that these sons and daughters of yours
Are always so eager to get up and leave
Why is it that you always only get to keep
...those whose thoughts are to beg and keep the obsolete
...of history from the worlds abroad
...which have nothing better than the makings of thee
Oh, Africa my Beloved
Even I sometimes get the urge to just get up and leave
But so strong is my love for thee
For it always anchors my spirit, here to be
Perhaps if you and I were to form an alliance
We would prove to the others
That indeed, even in Paradise dreams can still be achieved
We can prove to them that on the canvas of life
Anyone can paint whatever his heart may like
For it isn?t life that matters
But the reality of what you make of the opportunities it offers
Oh, Africa you truly are my deepest love
For you, in my heart is nothing but pride
But there is just one teeny-weeny bit of help I need
Please speak to Mother Nature for me
And ask her gently to lend me her scriptures of life
So I may peruse through to see if I can find some answers I seek
For I feel inclined to believe
She has a lot more acumen to offer
Than of the realities that graces the ordinary minds
Of her intelligence, I wish to spread to the extents it may prevail
So in speaking to her on my behalf
Please ensure to make clear of my selfless intents
So she may keep sealed from me the pages whose secrets she doesn?t wish
revealed
Oh, My Beloved Mama Africa
You truly are such a Great Mama
You have seen it all in time,
...and even beyond my time you will still continue to see it all as time strides
Truly, in me your roots run deep
For your were still here, when more than a thousand years back
...plans to have me alive were hatched
Son after father after grandfather after great grandfather
...after an endless series of other greater grandfathers in time
So why should I abandon thee when it?s finally time for me live
Just to show you gratitude for having me
...this life I live I shall on behalf of all before me dedicate to the benefit of thee
Akin twin invisible presence coaxing...paranormal
Action across ouija board
herald Faustian bargain
as fingers of left hand appear to move
planchette of their own accord...
inexplicably, silently, and verily
along a barely traceable minuscule chord
dance, with some spatial force
from outer limits, perhaps dimension unexplored
twilight zone, (where spirit of Rod Serling dwells)
horizontally, linearly, and peculiarly unmoored
hashtagging, kickstarting, and zigzagging
while just barely hoovering
with maybe a hair breath of space to afford
between alien world and terrestrial
plain playing field, when oh my lord...
(this premature ejeculation from an atheist sword
like cross my heart and hope
to die a martyrs death), thee paranormal
shenanigans witness movement toward,
and away from death still participants mouths agape
with bated breath until last letter scored
which message... uh...ah...cannot be revealed
yeah...yeah...yeah...due to HIPAA laws...
...Without explanation,
there gets heard clangorous din
along with whooshes of ice cold air
brushing against my chin
analogous to some unseen
genie i.e. and/or jinn freed
from the lantern by Aladdin,
then,...how odd...
a deathlike stillness one could hear a pin
drop pervades painfully quiet
as if sound got vacuumed in
to a void of parallel universe...
...Though I don't dabble in black magic,
nor nothing linkedin with the occult,
yours truly titled poem
to "grab" attention fast as Usain Bolt,
he dashes off runners block
blinding earth shattering jolt
faster than speeding bullet,
a praiseworthy athlete
with no win tent to insult,
but merely chose his name out of thin air
(in accordance with abracadabra)
and flimsy rhyme that did result...
But, aye beg (bribe
with wealth of Midas)...please
believe me you, this rather cheese
zee poetic endeavor got
wrought eyes wide shut
(for all intents and purposes eyes closed),
where gentle force did cease
phalanges asthma southern paw
of righteous honest to dog
gone guy with pennywise
and pound foolish sixth cents sees
dead people as like miniature floaters
(in my eyes with ease)
poised and struck unbeknownst to me
computer laptop black keys!
Faraway in an unknown
Unknown distant land
Land she sleeps
And wake all alone
All alone she lives
Lives and waits
Waits for me to come
Waits for me to come
Come take her to be
mine.
Every morning
In that faraway
Distant and unknown
land
She sings and sweeps
Like the African Woman
she is!
...Inside her
Is my child
Yet unborn...
It is to you
My unborn child
That this address is to...
...My child
Whenever, Wherever
and Whichever
Way you choose to come
Into this world
May you meet this as a
gift
From me to you!!!
...I am your father
Pride you are to me
See you not I may
And see you I may
But let it ring down in
you
That a pride to me
You are...
...This world you are
Coming into
Is a ugly beautiful place
A hopefully hopeless city
A beautiful city
With ugly villages
Which houses men
Of different varied
intents
And women
Whose animalistic
innerlings
Are covered with
glowing skins
And ready made
garments!!!
...I had done my part
My part to bring you
hither
And leave for you
A lot of deeds
Both good and not too
good
Also bad and not too
bad.
I had done my part
To bring you hither
In the best vessel
around!
And grow will you
In this truly wicked
world
To be nice and
righteous
Till you strive and
strive
To make it
Better than you met it...
Just like I
Your father...
...You know me not
My unborn child
But my news you hear
From that which is your
carrier
Of the too many bads
That I did
And of too few goods
That by me are done.
Struggle! Struggle!!
My dear Unborn Child
To better my deeds
And better your lots
For the betterment of
the world!...
...Though it be cruel to
you
Fight to abrogate
cruelity
Though it be ugly to you
Struggle to promote
beauty
Though it be a hell for
you
Endeavour to create a
heaven in it.
...For the world
Is always not what
It seem to be
And in it
Nothing remains as it is
For so long a time
Like Mariama Ba's
Long Letter!...
...So my dear child
Learn from my story
Avoid my pitfalls
Use my strengths
Understand my
weaknesses
And drink from my
wisdom pot
And it shall better you...
...For...
You are
My Unborn Child...
Unlike the world the mind of Truth is not for sale
the spirit of its word is freely shared
and gathering together whose hearts have cared
within affections warmth our souls regale
For love does recognize those who are its own
and to embrace within its arms all caught
and forsakest each other willest not
open welcome by invitation to its home
So her gleaming brighness doth upon all shine
and all who look upon her know her fair
wisdom and justice for all does share
and fertile are her passages of time
and within the bride and groom do become one
where hearts enjoined the work of God do prove
that to free those enslaved to madness move
where the works of hatred can be undone
At the cities gates her voice appeals
that to turn aside to wisdom taught
submission to understanding in your thought
the sources of true knowledge she reveals
Our hearts are the plaintiff before the judge
where does show our contempt or praise to be
our actions display only what our heart can see
whether its instruction did we bid or grudge
For all do stand before the court of Life
within its time all thoughts and actions etched
framed within its moments lives are sketched
if one has weilded justice or the knife
For all have seen the truth of justice and her scales
with impartiality her weights are ever seen
actions of your heart determine kind or mean
those who listen to instruction she never fails
Those without a home she's given cover
fed and clothed has she whom those had none
bid those who wish to share in love to come
benevolence the garments that clothe each other
Within ones own heart is lodged our truth of ways
many have sought to hide its full intents
but the full exposure by time its seeds prevents
the thought and deeds recorded by time its days
Examine does ones heart the life of self
and if to the course of love one has been true
for sealed within is all that makes up you
opened will be the book that lays sealed upon its shelf
And we like sands that moving through the glass
what was our future has fashioned now our past
but what is us is in its scroll now firmly cast
and saved until he who unseals the graves of everlast
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
For all intents and purposes, when speaking of bearing crosses, we think of the literal cross of Christ with a proverbial reference to suffering.
Having so said, life gifts us with crosses whether or not we deserved or warranted them. We may build defenses, immunities, and tolerances, but none of such will completely void the crosses we face.
Illnesses, diseases, handicaps, losses, rejections, birth defects. We bear our crosses in different ways. Some of us are strong and by God's Grace are able to bear under and carry the load. There are those who refuse to fight when they fall and lie in defeat.
Bearing under does not meant we always smile saying, 'Praise the Lord'. Some become 'losers before they even fall, because they have no faith for their crosses. A story is told of a heavy weight champion fighter who was knocked down more than any other fighter in history. He was able to be a champion because 'he always got up'.
110321PSCtest, This Or That, Vol 8, Edward Ibeh Title chosen: 'A Cross To Bear'
Akin Twin Invisible Presence Coaxing...
Action across ouija board
fingers of left hand appear to move
planchette of their own accord...
inexplicably, silently, and verily
along a barely traceable minuscule chord
dance, with some spatial force
from outer limits,
perhaps a dimension unexplored
of twilight zone, (where spirit
of Rod Serling dwells)
horizontally, linearly, and peculiarly unmoored
hashtagging, kickstarting, and zigzagging
while just barely hoovering
with maybe a hair breath
of space to afford
between alien world and terrestrial
plain playing field, when oh my lord...
(this premature ejeculation
from an atheist sword
like cross my heart), thee paranormal
shenanigans witness movement toward,
and away from death still
participants mouths agape
with bated breath until last letter scored
which message... uh...ah...cannot be revealed
yeah...yeah...yeah...due to HIPAA laws...
...(Without explanation, there
gets heard a clangorous din
along with whooshes of ice cold air
brushing against my chin
analogous to some unseen
genie i.e. and/or jinn
freed from the lantern by Aladdin,
then,...how odd...a deathlike
stillness one could hear a pin
drop pervades so painfully quiet
as if...all sound got vacuumed in
to a void of parallel universe...
...Though I don't dabble in the black magic,
nor nothing linkedin with the occult,
yours truly titled his poem used to
"grab" attention fast as Usain Bolt,
he who dashes off runners block
as a blinding earth shattering jolt
faster than speeding bullet,
a praiseworthy athlete with no win tent to insult,
but merely chose his name out of thin air
(in accordance with abracadabra)
and flimsy rhyme that did result...
But..., aye...beg (bribe with
all the wealth of Midas)...please
believe me you, this rather cheese
zee poetic endeavor got
wrought with eyes wide shut
(for all intents and purposes eyes closed),
where gentle force did cease
phalanges asthma southern paw
of righteous honest to dog
gone guy with sixth cents sees
dead people as like miniature floaters
(in my eyes with ease)
poised and struck unbeknownst
computer laptop black keys!
Sly smile greets me as eyes feast upon my skin
Undress he silently pleads
Unwanted hands touch thy naked leg
An innocent mind is slowly being tainted
Fornication is written all over his unholy mind
A cringe brings forth a sparkle in his eye
Confusion clouds her vulnerable mind
Her skin is creaming against his filthy touch
Sinful hands travel up her thighs
Run! Yell! persists her mind
Unwanted fingers caress her virgin parts
Shock claims her body
Her brain urges her body to leave yet it ignores
Rough, twitching fingers caress her sensible zone
Tears are clouding her vision
Her body intents to flee but he blocks her way
Desire is clearly shown below his waist
Terror seizes hr body
Shot down the bed, he rips her shirt open
She's only eleven
Anxious, greedy fingers pull against her skirt
Punches are thrown at her attacker
He only responds by hitting her close to unconsciousness
Violent hands take off her panties
She's trying to weakly fight him off
Hands explore her vulnerable body
Sobs escape her wet lips
He pulls down his pants
She desperately screams for help
Mocking her to continue yelling, everyone is gone
She see s him pull down his boxers
Lust controls his sick mind
Rough hands touch her virginity
He becomes erect
She's struggles when he grabs her hand
He only strikes her senseless
Placing her little hand on his ********, gently stroking it
Fear clouds her sense
A perverted smile greets her horror glazed eyes
'Open your mouth'
Terror forces her brain to do as he commands
He shifts towards her placing his ******** inside
'Suck it'
Disgust fill her senses
'Suck it!' he yells, hitting her already bruised face
Wincing, she does as she is told fearing for her life
Pleasure creeps up to his face as he loudly moaned
She bursts into tears
He takes himself out
Pinning her down, he puts himself upon her entrance
Evading all privacy She screams in agony as he roughly takes all her innocence
Tears flow relentlessly down her face
He disengages from her
'You're parents will pick you up in a week' he smirks
Doom fills her
He leaves her alone
And to think that she considered him the greatest uncle ever
No, I wasn't taken away by a giant storm to The Land of Oz, but it was a place of quiet and open spaces filled with Southern hospitalities. I did not meet a good witch nor the wicked witch of the East, nor did Toto have to inform me that there is no wizard to magically get me back home, but I did think of clapping my heels together as I was reminded that there is no place like home nor a church like New Life. Yes, I often lost track of time, but I easily got back on track as it grew near to the time to go home. As I worshiped The Lord at New Life yesterday, my soul rejoiced, but the cry of my heart remained for those in the land of ritual and tradition. Indeed, there is no place like home.
Without the assistance of make-believe, science, or a time tunnel, I went back in time. I flew some 2000 miles away and landed within a hundred miles of my birthplace, but this mission was not about me or my place of origin, but the dreams, hopes, and honor of others. God has blessed us with space and time and has given us the choice to proceed or to stand still. For all intents and purposes, space remains unchanged and unmoved, but time never stands still.
As I beheld people who had gone forward and those who stood still, I experienced both joy and sadness. On the one hand, this land of catfish and cotton is a laboratory of people making adjustments and learning to get along. On the other hand, it's a place where time stands still. The politics and social structures have changed, but the people of faith seemed frozen and immovable. I think my journey and first-hand impression can best be described by the experience I recorded one Sunday morning which stood in remarkably contrasting tones from those to which my soul has grown accustomed at my own New Life Church.120919PoSoup;*See Part 2
***************************************************************
alternate long worded title – the grudge holder from one generation to the next for all intents and purposes remains the same, and thus interestingly enough, they can easily be a pinch hitter for man, woman, and/or child feeling resentment since dawn (or eventual dusk) of civilization and dominant species experiences discontents.
Hotmail outlook grim, viz beholding
warp and woof reconciliation,
at social gatherings time and agin
mass elf listened to threnody
inducing dot bin
reiterated within earshot,
when this then mortal mwm
clocked LVIII Earthlinked
round the sun, while he
tugged hairs on
his chinny chin chin
now clearly informs thyself,
how genealogical
weave incorporating din
gee, holey, bunched
gaps rendering incomplete
thine quilted worm,
and moth eaten
delicate webbed weave
thread bare fabric
evinces absent majority descendents,
not more'n two generations past
equally substantially rotten produce
junction bore inquisitiveness
upon approaching mine
middle adult existence
details known istenig to WXPN
I whiz a boot
thirteen (NOT shoesize),
benchmarked with virulent yen
twittering, snapchatting, instagramming
Bugaboo gainsaid, infiltrated subUrban
bedroom and kindled pinterest the
reddit lee making me
an outcast with Penny
Sylph Vanya (amidst prickly
Poker Flats of
Lake Woebegone), when
trumpet call to
erect an invisible
omnipotent fence still
did not obstruct hearty ten
to cros the Rio Grande
among strong men
many sharing first name Sven
purportedly related moost every one
placed when newborn among
one of many scattered orphan
(deliberate poisoned, sans scorpian
subsequently kid
napped by vested gentry,
who shared microscopic strands
plus CRISPR DNA
compliments of Ken
and Barbie, nonetheless forced
as stoop labor for
what is that ... there ... in the darkness?
what is that hollow creature, cold and callous
that shrouds its image in the deep, remorseless black?
careless, the coal-red glint in its eye ...
ragged-edged teeth to tear truth and sensibilities -
to rip the flesh of loving and kind intent,
imbibe its worth, and spatter the dregs into my face, sodden
I can see it moving there ...
squirming and slithering in the frigid gloom
its skin pulled taut over bones like a painted skeleton ...
broken, twisted fingers of conscience scratching at the dirt floor
tearing at its own eyes for the sake of regret
bleakly consecrated, relishing the pain, exquisite -
an anguish of introspection, suffused.
it trembles there ... innocent, wan ...
it shivers in the crepuscular quiet
the agony of alienation and loss dripping thick from its hide.
what is that monster, there?
I fear I know it, and IT knows me ...
yet I shall not give it a crumb of satisfaction or satiation -
better that it lurks there in the dim and dank
rather than give it identity.
let it wallow in its own waste
and feed on the scraps of disappointment
regret and realization lapped cold from the floor …
let it starve for want of my better aspirations and intents
I shall hold no heed nor pay no pity
else it will surely devour me ...
happy to taste the metallic tang of my lifeblood
sharp on its sordid and duplicitous tongue -
quick to digest all that I had meant for worth
and all that I had given to benefit and blessing ...
and belief.
oh, what is that ... there ...
in the tenebrous depths??
who is that hollow hellion ...
who wears my face?
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Select H Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Hallucination" Poetry Contest, Brendan J. Simons, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 7th Place ~ in the "Loss Of An Innocent Mind" Poetry Contest, Kai Michael Neumann, Judge & Sponsor.