Long Jewelers Poems
Long Jewelers Poems. Below are the most popular long Jewelers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jewelers poems by poem length and keyword.
Brift Jia: Purofetto No Sutorirain
Profo hisoria: Enredo Profissional.... Shall speak to those
who have interest in wrestling.
The Voice of Bruft Jiza spoke through the Mask!
His age shall exceed 20 years.
they shall se him struggle
he among the lions he shall tame them
he shall tame the bears
and shall ut wrest the
marsh meateaters
his life will find him dispositioned
and he shall overcome those obstacles
and shall shine
as son: brother, neihbor
freind: and Lover
His womans willingness shall determine if he shall father.
She will restrict him from other women
that they might labor to divide them..He shall be unrecognized as a true champion
Said Bruft jiza who is Enredo Connaitras...Else Deveri Procura
Lo Na Derrata
Eles De Deveri Procura
Lo como Campesa
O poro escelhido e premiara como campeao
muitas empresas devern fazo-le
elsa devern viajar
para um lugar
secreto e tudus os trofeus deverm ser
recalhidas
la piel de un toro campeon...
encontraran gemas y metalas preciosos y la piel de un toro campeon!
TU le Connaitras!
as then he shall be champion
Tu le Contnaitras...
he shall hear a man wish
for his woman.
He shall hear the names of men
to replace him as champion
he shall be lored into conversations
his skin shall be tanned from the sun of an island
there many men shall shave an oil him.
He shall be cleaned by a woman
who shall sing to him
and the grapes and fruits of the islland shall
be feed to him.
hearing this many companies will send him trophies.
Trophies that havenot been solicated.
Twenty five trophies will say champion
in many laugages and in different places.
A place shall be built by novice.
There a oven of stone shall be made to feed him.
Quarries shall be searched for precious metals.
The gems from many places shall be sourced.
The strap from a championship bull shall be made
into leather. Gold And silver shall be made into a waist belt.
Many promoters shall meet there
and ask for the trophies they have sent.
They shall collect the trophies.
And these Cups shall tsallied and the
jewelers shall
concort there tresures and
a championship shall be promised.
Tu Le Connaitras!
Bel Canto!
They're trying to decapitate the hood magistrates,
with fabricated reasons for treasons
It's the season that we evaluate and saturate,
All those who maneuver with a false mind,
Hood occupants are tee'd off like it's golf time,
So your game needs to be up to par
because to the jails and cemetaries
too many people have lost time,
The government is microscopic on the popular,
They possess new world order style binoculars,
They're building plantations and camps
in the form of penetentiaries
to house and be the spots for the,
Most corrupted, those abducted,
from society in a variety of flavors
because misbehavior leaves us stuck with,
A bunch of years on tiers to joint suspension,
We stay inchin' through tention,
and in this hard knock life comprehension,
we discover that we're losing
in their systematic intervention,
They know that the hypnosis from dollar bills will rule us,
In a cess pool of,
deceived individuals who tryin' to glisten like a jewelers,
Metals and precious stones,
Yes it's on,
We brave enough to test the throne,
The quest is long,
And we fight until our flesh and bones,
Dissolved into the earth
We were born to die so who's next to go,
Our lives are far from festivals,
We're surrounded by people
who perform acts that are unethical,
attempting to reach the pinnacle,
Because the hood fame will excite us,
We search for the cures to hunger-itis,
What we really need is the wisdom from the providers,
Who serves the mind food
because the government is killin' us,
They're sealin' our fate with each plate to get rid of us,
They lable us outlaws, so we turn southpaw
and fight for our rights from the left like P. Whittaker,
It's hard suvivng inside their GENOCIDAL SYLLABUS,
So before you get tossed like a javelin,
Stay sharp and keep your eyes and mind travelin'
While you're in the systematic maze
to keep your life from unravelin'.
For National Cat Day, October 29, 2022
Egyptians worshipped and revered them;
Superstitious people feared them;
When wicked witches commandeered them,
They rode on brooms and sometimes steered them;
In cramped pet shops owners tiered them;
Exotic dealers bred and reared them,
Sometimes bobbed their tails and eared them
Then cool and casually auctioneered them;
Poets lauded them and cheered them;
Children's writers buccaneered them;
Hateful boys have chased and jeered them;
Careless motorists have smeared them;
Allergics sneezed each time they neared them;
Sculptors bronzed them; groomers sheared them,
Trimmed their toenails and veneered them;
Toy makers stuffed and puppeteered them;
Jewelers brooched or lavaliered them;
Geneticists have engineered them
And for research volunteered them.
Though man's endured them and endeared them,
He's barely tamed, not domineered them.
To humans history has adhered them,
But their nine lives have persevered them.
And that is why I tip my hat
To the legacy of the cat.
Even this hard heart's been smitten
By a furry ball of kitten.
Cats have kept us fascinated
Since the first ones were created
And perhaps hung out with Adam's other half.
They have been both pets and passions,
And served as well as fads and fashions,
But it really is enough to make one laugh.
Men may ply themselves with worldly honors,
And of slavish dogs play prideful owners,
But to aristocratic cats…
They're merely staff.
Author's note: Cats may have been domesticated as early as 7,500 BC. They are the second most popular house pet in the U.S., behind…go figure!...freshwater fish.
Saturday's Truth
No one left to trust
I'am looking in the street
but not with the jewelers in the night
I walked in I heard a different language
A pleasant forth coming talk....it would be them
I can't say nothing about no one
Slashed by the hooks of saint Catherine's
No whistling,no listening because zombies can't dance
They were all winning their glory
These days it's what happens
poison truth
all warnings fighting to prepare
intimate daggers
Fly straight for the heart
What is your next move
The warning signs were real
I was sure there was truth in our presence
It was never said
No lies to believe
It's never
No explanation
Expectation of youth
The lady said
I was never lied to
Virtue in all she did
I sold my awareness for self design
To suit my numbness of this too busy world
What's out of control
When nothing is controlled
Ego Ego Ego
Don't drive my car or talk too much
Make it easy on the ears
Take the trip
Through temper through fear
Look Don't talk It will only hurt
Laughter was beat
Beat into me..beat into me..beat me like a stuffed dummy
poison truth
all warnings fighting to prepare
intimidated...what is your next move
No people found
Willfully unravel
Sun made..parted ways
It leaves them...
I got to stay up
I can't fall the sleep
Saturday could never be what is used to be
It was a fun day
positive human qualities were Sat (truth), Daya (compassion), Santokh (contentment), Nimrata (humility), and Pyaar (love).
*Image of Global Positioning System by Rankr.
All Roads Led to Hell, Until GPS
An attempted refolded map resolved itself against a ruffled sort,
the championed driver -- not of cars,
GPS constants a dashboard as a storm flit to nonexistence,
ado about the guy at the wheel flits with it,
chuckles as dawn speaks and sunrise glints at a trustful eye,
an oiled motor now runs cooly, slightly fresh tire scarring rolls on,
a car stops on the side of a country lane,
an idling engine idles a bevy of doves perched on a limb,
opts for a U-turn as an all clearance was taken,
a mouth forces years of hardened cells upward, donning anew emerges,
whistling attuned to a suite medley of birdsongs while fingers push a fedora near a car ceiling,
stops at the florist, the candy store, and longer at the jewelers,
sounds of a car parking in the drive,
a woman wiping to dryness look sees a mirror,
a throat clears and coughed to a soothing, and hair is being fussed,
a trembling stand eases to absence, a door being faced down a hallway opens,
a bouquet of roses, a candy box, a gift box, and a rugged man fall in unison fronting an entry doorway,
weeping in glad tidings calls outwardly, "Look what my GPS said!" a shocked woman rushes forward to kneel,
The solid man raised his GPS to her ever-widening eyes,
GPS read out, "God Promises Salvation,"
Two souls lived contentedly until their hereafter in bliss.
2022 August 18
Dedicated to my 17 sensational followers.
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17 followers,
Who stir the soup of thought,
Are searching for the silent man,
Who never can be bought.
Somewhere in the rocks and hills,
The man is lost and dumb,
He cannot lose the milling stone,
Or win the kingdom come.
The 17 are poets,
Who practice what they preach,
The writings on the wall, they say,
To those they cannot teach.
In the desert desolate,
A spring of truth is nigh,
An aggregate of jesters,
Is jeering him nearby.
The 17 are seekers,
They too, have lost the way,
But in the secret canyon,
They join as one to pray.
The serpent king is laughing,
The man is nearly dead,
The desert floor is drowning,
Inside a diamond bed.
The 17 are miners,
But riches they have none,
They seek the golden nuggets,
That radiate the sun.
The vultures are ascending,
To feast upon the ghost,
The sacrament of Satan,
Is waiting for the host.
The 17 are jewelers,
They jostle for the heirs,
To seven magic kingdoms,
That lie beneath the stairs.
The devil's work is over,
The wonder that remains,
Is grateful to the 17,
Who sent the summer rains,
The 17 are shepherds,
But then, are not we all?
To serve the silent beggar,
And save the ones who fall.
The Master in His glory,
Prepared the rainbow band,
To celebrate the quiet ones,
Who cultivate the sand.
Sub mitt meeting a Poem
Sub mid night
Sub meeting the meeting of the meet
World trade meeting
World trade submitting proposal
When the world is round can be flat
Like a dish for the Catholic Isabel
Kingdom of Spain.
Your world may be like a dish
Where you eat a word
Like a banana
Like a piece of meet.
Meet vs. bananas
WTO vs. Chiquita
If the world is not round is a case.
Spain when Isabella the catholic
Is flat is flat is flat is flat as her jewelers.
Meet meeting submitting a poem is another story.
Looks easier conquering another star;
Another planet
But I am not a perpetrator of the genocide
Committed in my own race.
Copan was a beautiful place.
I can’t see the flat world as then Spain
When conquering a new continent
When entering the game of the players
Playing basket ball.
To me the wheel takes me very far
The bus to central station
I drive a bike where I live
The world can be as well an egg
I live in Amsterdam.
Round as a plant to be planted a gracht a tulip
As the exhausting resources that are exploited
It is divided in small bridges has leaves
It has to be save from CO2 emissions is a flower
From more environmental disasters.
the world.
He is an old pan man and knows how to pan
Finding gold is easy, the tricky one is diamond
A diamond in the rough is a crude old stone
But the one he would polish would be his own.
So the pan man saw many a bauble, fine gems
Worn by the great and by the not great at all
Polished personalities without character's diadems
He watched them like leaves turn gold and fall.
Then from innate hunger of a lonely eye, he saw
A woman worn hard by the ghetto's bitter law
And yet her speech was full of grace, and dreams
Were bubbles in the churn of frolicking streams
But heart unbroken did not cease to hope, she
Seemed a common stone to jewelers greedy eyes
But he knew she was a diamond in the rough, he
Knew this was the moment to which he would rise
He courted her like a lady, for a lady she ever was
She was the honeycomb and he the bee that buzz
From flower to flower bring nectar to her sweet cell
His diamond in the rough that by the river dwell.
Then when his love had polished her to a finish
The pollen fattened chrysalis suddenly was still
And right before gawking eyes deformity vanish
And a diamond back butterfly fluttered in the thrill.
As the cooper prepares a barrel for new wine the cord-wainer is fashioning new shoes, the cart-wright is building a new cart and I am at the tailors being fitted for new clothes. My lady asleep unknown that I am preparing her a treat, the busker practicing a new song with perfect pitch and tone. All the gong-farmers are cleaning the out doors all this, a surprise that awaits my lady.
The monk busy in the church lighting candles and preparing his words, my ladies servants creating a meal fit for a King and Queen. Lone for many years this lady just appeared, her beauty beyond compare, dark hair with a soul from heaven capturing my heart. Her crown at the jewelers placing new rube's and diamonds upon on it while the butcher prepares a lamb.
As I lay on the battle field with a sword through my armor theses thought’s cross my mind, for tomorrow was to be our wedding day. Let it be known my love for her will never die on this day, take my soul and place it next to hers, my Lord! Casting theses thought’s into hers so she will always remember me. I pray now my Lord please, watch over her!
I’ve been setting up alarm systems
in shops along a city mall.
It appears a spate of break ins
has been the reason for my call.
And it was in a jewelers shop,
before that day called valentine,
for lovers was around the corner.
This day’s a jeweler’s gold mine.
I had to work around red roses;
chocolates for cupid’s buyers,
while I’m putting in the system
and connecting all the wires.
I was given cups of coffee,
and a cadbury rose chocolate,
as the pretty sales assistant,
tried to buy me with her chat.
When I say she tried to buy me
it was to make a honey sale.
She said stoned rings are discounted,
and ear ring gifts will never fail.
A diamond brooch is lovely;
perhaps a locket made of gold.
‘Your girlfriend will truly love you;’
But there’s no girlfriend she was told.
‘No girlfriend!’ she squeaked. ‘Why not?’
and I smiled ‘simply this you see.
I would love to have a girlfriend,
but alas my wife won’t let me.’