Long Ironically Poems
Long Ironically Poems. Below are the most popular long Ironically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ironically poems by poem length and keyword.
Tough in spending even in abundance of resources
Indifference shown to priority of any needed purchase
Giving is rendered a gruesome punishment to mankind
Hall of famer to the accuracy of the expression of feelings
Tight fisted, closed minded and currency conscious in all situations.
A swollen wallet ironically ignites the need for fewer expenses
River accumulating water to the point of flooding but never overflows
So in control of the inside irrespective of the nature of the outside
Even the cheapest budget suffers the axe of a calculative cut down
Nothing boot toe till rot and duff feet...
Attempting nightly ritual
nsync with sole and
instep of beat
January second 21:08
two thousand twenty
footwear equipped with
custom made cleat
proudly standing tall
(think) as an elite
able, eager, and ready
to sprint skyhigh fleet
ting into netherlands
(towering well over
other wiry antennae thin contestants,
hence exception to
maximum height waved
outrageous illegitimate forfeit
chore blithely Atlas shrugged off),
whereby said marathoner Olympian
amidst godly pantheon did greet,
competitors crouched tigerlike
ironically melting starter blocks
deftly gunning generating barreling heat
fast as greased lightning
Achilles catapulted courtesy blur,
zee mist tree (oak kay)
man, i.e. helpmeet,
he roundly squared off
accompanied by his wifely entreat.
Thus situated, positioned, and finagled
husbandry duty obliging the misses,
no matter she kick started
(think thrashing outsize overgrown toddler)
childish task deemed
markedly cockameemie design,
subsequently these little feet (mine)
stood stolid upon bedroom floor
she did man date me,
I supplicated, necessitated,
implored, and decried divine
intercession, cuz thee mademoiselle
did authoritatively assign,
thee mister getting mine
handy dandy grip upon her supine
corpulent physique
outstretched leaden legs
awaiting (Abby) salute perfect sign
to commence powerfully
prying and pulling
first straight then nine
tee degrees practically prostrating self
footloose and eventually
detaching fancy free
thunder thighs, what strong
amazing anatomical design
nearly defying might
of super Matt nein
bird brainer heron,
an ill eagle cro-magnon scheme
to untie clodhoppers
snug as a bug in a rug,
whence laces got knotted
freaking me out clearly
out this world,
wide webbed formerly
Gordian tangled skein.
Why do men have an Adam's apple?
Because of sin and how we grapple
(It was Satan who did deceive Eve and ironically
It was Adam who choked (like the eye and the mote)
One thousand deaths every time we sin
One thousand breaths, this death, the lack therein
Then we eat sin and it becomes caught in our throat
Because we did not meet sin as one not inchoate
We don't support our wives even when we're right there
Why didn't Adam step in for his maiden so fair
Because we don't speak up in everyday conversation**
We don't meet the nay-sayer in every contemplation
We are called to battle sin everyday
Not explain or justify our sin away
So turn away from the sin that we play with
And away from the life that we decay with
And make a turn to a Savior because of our behavior
Have a stiff upper lip before the slip of the lip
Because Jesus rows us away from the slave ship
As I complete this poem and hand down this sentence
We've been given the gift-command of repentance
When I was young and clueless,
If retirement appeared
Somehow upon my radar
I would think it pretty weird.
But if I gave some thought to where
My future self might be,
Most likely it would be a little
Cabin by the sea.
A stroll into a charming town,
My cottage with a view,
A garden and a lot of time
To do the things I’d do.
But life takes unexpected turns
And there’s no magic math
To calculate the ending
As we chart our chosen path.
And as the years unfold we find
The follies of our youth
Seem fictional when they’re compared
To living’s harsher truth.
Ironically, though, in my
Long-time view-free home, I am
Retired, far from seaside
And contented as a clam.
"Absence makes the love grow"
Absence grows love?
grows love??
Okay but what is what is absence?
Fair enough
But surely, if
In love will grow
Does that mean that
The lover loves the lovee more when the lovee is not in e
eyeshot
and earshot
and noseshot
and mouthshot
and even tongueshot?
Surely not but hmmm
...then what?
Perhaps the statement's truth lies in the fact that
Pain brought about by wanting to
be even a foot closer to her
hear her gentle chuckle
be....there
Seems sweeter than the pain of her being in my life
Clearly making me sadistic but I know that this "sad" will
not "stic" around forever
Like a donkey being led on with a apple as time goes by ,
Your
desperate
desperate
desire to indulge in it's sweetness only seems to grow
However I desire not only the sweetness of the apple , I too don't mind experiencing the
Bitterness
Hardness
Sourness
I REALLY DONT CARE.
I JUST NEED MY APPLE.
So perhaps I should allow to do its thing
Guess my mind will continue to ironically...spiral mindlessly
Guess my fingers will have to wait for the day I see them to get shake uncontrollably
Guess my arms will continue to not be 'arm'ed with her warm embrace
Guess my smile will have to wait to conquer my face , even when her presence ismiles away
Guess my lips will remain dry, not being moistened by hers
And that's okay.
Because the of marks the end of the in my heart.
But theres only one way to find out,
Right?
Sonnet
For the millions of us who are sick of Israel's mass killing of Palestinians, the time appears without hopes
we relive the Nazi horror regime
Ironically, perpetuated those who were the victims
who in their seek revenge on the innocent, those
who have their land stolen
We see this and are powerless because the killers are
protected by a regime of corrupt people who have sold their souls to Zionism, a sect of evil even God fears
What can we do other than speak out, write, and protest
yet in the sad knowledge, we will not be heard except
someone hears the whisper in the wind
Once called a fairy tale, it endures the test of time,
While man’s reason falters and philosophers resign.
From Epicureans lost and ancient pagans gone,
Christianity’s story steadfastly marches on.
Once called atheists by the Romans
Ironically they have the doldrums
Its plot, its heart, cannot be stripped away,
No morals, no miracles, no truth without its sway.
Other faiths may linger when the wonders have begun,
Yet strip the Bible’s marvels, and its story is undone.
God become Man the tale that makes (not breaks) our rules,
No legend or teaching from any other wise or ancient schools
Dares claim Incarnation, love descending from the skies
A philosopher’s tale for children, but for grown and searching eyes.
Where are these philosophers today? Have they not all gone away:
Lucretius, Julian the Apostate, Averroes, The Gnostics of the ancient world
Voltaire, La Mettrie, Ayer and those who reason in a destructive whirl?
No Buddha, no Socrates, nor prophet in the East,
Would dare declare themselves as God, or take on this Holy Paraclete:
If you ask the Buddha, "Are you the son of Brahma?"
He would have said "You’re in the veil of illusion to even ask” comma
If you would have asked Socrates, are you Zeus?"
he would have scowled then laughed at you
If you ask Confucius, "Are you in heaven, Tien?
“It is bad taste in a polite society to ask.” He would have said
If you would ask Muhammad, "Are you Allah?" he would have rent
his clothes in rage and then probably cut off your head.
Yet Jesus, among all others, declared divinity,
So the tale persists, a mystery for eternity.
Reason remains but doubters pass, their systems now mislaid,
But the tale of Incarnation this miracle remains unswayed.
A philosopher’s tale that lives as fact, a story hard to sever,
The heart of faith and meaning, enduring now, forever.
On the Christian anvil many hammers have been exhausted
Just precisely because of what it costed
I see a vision in my mind
My haunting, if you will
A still that's ever daunting
with it's futuristic chill
Through the middle of the frame
outstretched a wall of people
A fortitude for middle class
praised high beneath their steeple
Chasing dreams of wealth and fame
they gather by the score
positioned so their downcast eyes
have pity for the poor
Upon their backs they feel the glow
of living life on higher
feeding fires fueling egos
led by rich desires
A wailing wall of wants
that keep the haves from the have nots
Iconic human energy
at a hundred million watts
Buffering the one percent
sat high upon the hill
ironically placed on the right
believed to be God's will
They tower over all the land
masked by smoke and haze
Pitching scraps to stoke the fire
keeps their wall ablaze
A blaze that burns just bright enough
to cast a cinders glow
upon what’s left, the sea of poor
they'd rather never know
Empowered and emboldened
where they celebrate and brag
shadows caste the White House lawn
'neath the new Ameri"con" flag
NO FEAR OF MR EXCESSIVE FORCE PRAWLING THE CITY FOR VIOLENT FEMALE OFFENDERS MEETUPS IN THE MOST NONSUSPECTING PLACES HIS FAVORITE MEXICAN MAN DIE HE PAYS HER FOR PERSONAL FAVORS WITH DRUGS IRONICALLY SENDING HER TO COMMIT HOME INVASIONS WHILE SHE'S AN HABITUAL REPEAT VIOLENT OFFENDER HARD DRUGS MANUFACTURER FRAUD IDENTITY THEFT MR EXCESSIVE FORCE PROVIDES A REVOLING PRISON DOOR FOR ALL HER CRIMES FEEDING HER COCAINE HEROIN AND MARIJUANA FROM POLICE LOCKERS SHE THEN GIVE FALSE STATEMENTS TO FRAME ENTRAP INNOCENT PERSONS BECAUSE SHE'S JEALOUS SHE ACTUALLY HAD RELATIONS WITH MY EX ABUSER HE ATTACKED HIS FAMILY ON CHRISTMAS EVE MAN DIE BRUTALLY BEAT HER OWN CRIPPLED UNDOCUMENTED MOTHER WITH HER CRUTCHES AS HE GATHER MORE FEMALE VIOLENT OFFENDERS FOR HIS TWISTED CAUSE HE STOMPS AND ON THE STREET HE IS LABELED THE SPECKLE PIG MEETING MAN DIE IN SECURE PLACES WHERE HE SHOULD BE PROVIDING SAFETY SECURITY GUARDED BUT HE CAN'T BECAUSE HE IS BUSY WITH CONJUGAL VISITS ON ELEVATTORS HALLWAYS BATHROOMS IN LOCAL BUSINESSES MAN DIE BRAGGS ABOUT HER POWER WITH MR EXCESSIVE FORCE ALLOWING HER TO CONTROL THE LOCAL FEMALE STREET GANG AS QUEEN PIN OVER MORE REPEAT FEMALE VIOLENT OFFENDERS FINALLY GIVING HER A NOTHER EARLY RELEASE FOR GIVING FALSE STATEMENTS AND COMMITING ONGOING HABITUAL REPEAT VIOLENT CRIMES NO FEAR OF YOUR SCUM SPAT SPAT TRULY SAD ABUSE OF POWER HAVING CONJUGAL VISITS ACROSS THE TOWN ON THE ELEVATOR IN LIBRARIES HOSPITALS YMCA TRAIN STATIONS APARTMENT BUILDINGS
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Observe; glance to see
Ow my word-this is so much of these slaves,
I hear they talk swag
Living to be trendy enough
Living to get the tag
Giving an impression of how they possess the truth
of vanity,
Nike's mark as a flag
Louis Vuitton's loafers has to bring justification,
From getting attention to forbidden respect
Attention
From the budget they reserve
To wild spending of honesty
Only to let the poor observe
Alteration
Nevertheless Mandela's tribulations had to be for
This young lady's Gucci
Empowered slaves
Jesus' Crisification is ironically given gratitude,
Like our lives are at wage-money
Brings some attitude
Like uprising & loving the mirror from any latitude
Unknowingly our grace we let darkness intrude,
We starve for spiritual truth,
Spiritual food
Ego surely is some messed up pursuit,
If the next generation will ever experience the
epitome of real humanity...
Let us feel free to fly.
If not,
Let us love one another not love the status of money
but of God in all sanity,
Even if its like insanity,
Let us not live only to die...
The vagueness behind your statute is just the worst
profanity,
More like
A
Slave
Of
Vanity!!