Long Knocks Poems
Long Knocks Poems. Below are the most popular long Knocks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knocks poems by poem length and keyword.
Am I really the only one thinking outside the box,
When it comes to pension costs,
Regardless of whether people are able to work or not,
With some working til they drop.
Let me open my box and tell you how to stop the rot,
In my box is all the evidence that points to the life experience,
That those who are for a pension now due can bring to the table,
Along with the math's calculations that says how much they can give back,
If we ask their help,
To mentor the young and keep them out of jail,
To share a lifetime of knowledge that we may need if the internet breaks,
So, we don't end up back in the stone age.
To help on their good days or even good hours to reduce the rubbish pile,
That is costing us more every minute to manage,
Then there the hidden costs they can help us with,
When you start thinking out of the box,
Like, the longer we employ them when they are incapable,
Of doing their job there is a cost,
Or the fact that increasing their age of retirement,
We delay the intake of the young,
And if the age of retirement keeps going up,
The number of those unemployed for life goes up,
A cost that would burden us for generations to come.
Then there are the facts about the health problems,
With older people in workplaces,
Bladder issues,
Skin that is less resistant to knocks,
To name but two which will leave businesses no choice,
But to raise prices.
Another thought I came up with while thinking out of the box,
Is that to get the best out of the old work wise,
We should be looking at retirement as a gradual process,
With flexibility for gradually reducing a persons work hours,
And shifting them to light duties, including mentoring roles,
According to their individual health and abilities to do their job,
This should create opportunities for more young people to
Enter the workforce.
Then still thinking outside the box there is the mental wellbeing of
The aged which effects their physical health which impacts,
The overall rate of spending on health.
The more useful and less anxious people of any age feel,
Is a win in terms of real dollars saved.
If we can get more people thinking out of the box on this issue,
We will find it is not an issue at all,
Once the number crunchers see the new evidence,
That was sitting outside their box,
Who knows they might be tempted to think outside the box themselves.
Life carried on brushing up pain
Each day I could hardly remain
Darkness seemed to be my only course
As I falter and enter ultimate remorse
I could not see what's going on before me
As life seemed dim I could hardly see
There only seemed to be one way out
Only one that I have known about
Sleeping pills were taken extremely
All at once, I was feeling sleepy
In a last minute impulse I called emergency
They swiftly came as I was quickly
Fading fast from this course of reality
I was nodding off to sleep completely
They kept me barely awake to the hospital
Where I was contorted to spill all
I was gagged forcefully as darkness came
Awakened again to find more pills taken
My throat agonized with pain within
From the horrible gagging motion
Pill after pill flowed out of my mouth
As I neared closer to oblivion, further south
Finally I was allowed to sleep
My dreams now were mine to keep
When I awoke people surrounded me
Looking very worried, disappointed really
I had survived the attempt on my life
A fear I will always remember, the strife
Now the world is back into my life again
The pain is seemingly always pounding within
Worry is written all over my family
Fear escapes my mother’s eyes completely
They do many tests to see if I’m stable
Then the diagnosis is depression, certifiable
Therapists become a part of my new life
All present and accounted for, no new strife
Things weren’t anywhere near like they were
When everything was dark, fearful for sure
I hated life, it was lifeless, demure
Then it seemed I had the perfect cure
But life chose me, and I survived
Now things work simply and I thrived
I had the presence to make the best
Of what life brings, to take in the rest
I hold dear now all things that this life brings
A warm feeling comes when fear is fleeting
A perfect happiness comes from simplicity
Bringing complexity down to earth sincerely
Love came swiftly with joy in the heart
Never felt more pure, never to be torn apart
Now that I had survived the brush of death
I now take pleasure in each and every breath
This is what happens sometimes when death knocks
And life gets switched around, time tick-tocks
Now since the terror has come and gone
Joy and pleasure have arrived as one
The future now looks a lot greater
Now that death will be a lot later
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Richard Tarr's "suicide survivor" contest
11/12/2012
..........Please read part 1 and 2 first........
? What is the Quran about?
The Quran, the last revealed Word of God, is the prime source of every Muslim's faith and practice. It deals with all the subjects which concern us as human beings: wisdom, doctrine, worship, and law, but its basic theme is the relationship between God and His creatures. At the same time it provides guidelines for a just society, proper human conduct and an equitable economic system.
? Are there any other sacred sources?
Yes, the sunna, the practice and example of the Prophet, is the second authority for Muslims. A hadith is a reliably transmitted report of what the Prophet said, did, or approved. Belief in the sunna is part of the Islamic faith.
Examples of the Prophet's sayings
The Prophet said:
'God has no mercy on one who has no mercy for others.'
'None of you truly believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.'
'Powerful is not he who knocks the other down, indeed powerful is he who controls himself in a fit of anger.'
? What do Muslims think about Jesus?
Muslims respect and revere Jesus, and await his Second Coming. They consider him one of the greatest of God's messengers to mankind. A Muslim never refers to him simply as 'Jesus', but always adds the phrase 'upon him be peace'. The Quran confirms his virgin birth (a chapter of the Quran is entitled 'Mary'), and Mary is considered the purest woman in all creation. The Quran describes the Annunciation as follows:
'Behold!' the Angel said, 'God has chosen you, and purified you, and chosen you above the women of all nations. O Mary, God gives you good news of a word from Him, whose name shall be the Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, honored in this world and the Hereafter, and one of those brought near to God. He shall speak to the people from his cradle and in maturity, and shall be of the righteous.'
She said: 'O my Lord! How shall I have a son when no man has touched me?' He said: 'Even so; God creates what He will. When He decrees a thing, He says to it, "Be!" and it is.' (Quran 3:42-47)
Jesus was born miraculously through the same power which had brought Adam into being without a father:
Truly, the likeness of Jesus with God is as the likeness of Adam. He created him of dust, and then said to him, 'Be!' and he was. (Quran 3:59)
During his prophetic mission Jesus performed many miracles.
Form:
Psalms 73:26 (KJV) "My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.”
I’ve worried many times –
How can He save me? I’m so sinful, so errant,
Evil at my core, I think, corrupt in ways I can’t even admit,
How can He give me eternal life when I don’t deserve His sacrifice?
How can He save me from the depths of hell…
When I really deserve that darkness and despair?
If anyone should know the meaning of unworthy, that would be me,
The child who can barely see – how He went to the trouble….
Of saving me from the darkest destruction, the abyss of anguish,
The torment of a place I’ll never see… no, I’ll never know the suffering,
Because Jesus said, believe in me and you’re forever healed,
You’ll forever be mine, a child of the King, a light – however dim,
Who bleeds hope into this dismal world, where there is more doubt,
Than the faith that sustains, the faith that answers the door
When fear knocks boldly, eager to discourage the heart and soul!
I’ve worried many times –
How can He really be mine? I’m such a stumbling mess,
I really must confess – I never can imagine just why –
But He saved me from my doubts, from my fears, from my sins.
He saved me from the worst that I’ve known, the vilest past.
He saved me so I would never know what it means to die in my sin,
Unknown by Him, the One who taught me the meaning of love,
The One who silenced my every worry with the assurance that He…
Is alive inside my heart, burning away the darkest parts
With a light of grace that shines so bright I can barely see,
Yet, I understand – Yes, I was blind, but now I see… Yes, I see
Just what He did for me!
He is here inside my heart, inspiring my greatest hope,
Stirring up prayers and praise – inviting me to grow wiser
Than I’ve ever been, assured of the Presence who is forever
His Holy Spirit, in my heart where I can always be certain of the love
That will never doubt or fade out, love that survives all time,
Love that breathes joy into my life and love that is so kind,
Reflecting the brilliance of His light, glowing throughout all time!
Yes, I’ve worried many times – needless worries
Because He is alive and His spirit abides inside, where I know Him
As mine, forever shining so that I can see eternally –
Forever with HIM, the One who knows no sin!
Inside each of us, three entities exist.
It has nothing to do with having a tryst.
There’s a triangle consisting of the I, the YOU
And the SELF. By the way, I’m sure this is true!
The I and the YOU within, each live in its own house.
Sometimes they want to live together but don’t know how.
The I has boarded its windows and doors.
The YOU goes its own way and mostly ignores.
Then one day, who knows why? the SELF appears.
“Hey, remember me. I live here too” …And the I and YOU hear.
The YOU has sometimes dabbled with the SELF.
But the I has kept herself locked away, high on the shelf.
The SELF has awakened though and shines its light.
It can’t help it. That’s how it's made. There is no night.
The light eventually peeps through a crack in the wall.
Warming the I fast asleep on her shelf in the hall.
There’s no way now for the I to hide from the YOU.
The SELF has exposed her existence. Did I say? I’m sure this is true!
Now the YOU is curious about his neighbor, the I.
She’s quite beautiful; and after all, they both live inside.
So the YOU knocks on her door even though it is boarded.
The I has done her best to keep her energy hoarded.
But the SELF, without fail, continues to shine its light.
And the YOU keeps knocking on her door. What a fright!
She buries her head under a thick comforter,
But the SELF and the YOU are relentless. They just won’t let her.
She gives up finally and removes all the boards.
Unlatching the chains too, she cracks open the door.
One thing’s for sure, she won’t let the YOU inside.
She tentatively steps onto the porch. The I can no longer hide.
I now declares to YOU that she enjoys his company.
But she can’t let him in until she turns I into ME.
For you see, the I has been asleep for a long time in the dark.
She must now discover herself in the light. Find her own spark.
The reason the I went to sleep in the first place you see
Is because the YOU took her over and wouldn’t allow her to be.
All the while I and YOU are learning about themselves.
The SELF just continues to shine its bright light on their shelves.
It’s in no hurry. Its light won’t burn out. It can wait till they become present.
For the SELF is the Super Energy Light Field that is their essence.
By the way, I don’t remember; but maybe you do.
Did I say? I’m sure this is true!
The bats in the steeple were feeding on people
By sucking the blood splattered wood
That came from the coffin a vampire dropped off in
When he’d drunk all the blood that he could
Here in my basement, my permanent placement
I lurk since the day that I died
At rest in my casket, my skull in a basket
My hideous grin gaping wide
Rats and mice squeaking a rusty hinge creaking
A slither of light from outside
My long severed head was rotted and dead
But gasped as the door opened wide
I lifted my lid as some hooded kid
Crept sneakily into my crypt
He soon spun about and he might have run out
If only he hadn’t have slipped
As he hit the deck he shattered his neck
I thought he was bound to be dead
But then as he stood, he lowered his hood
And then he un-swivelled his head
He gave me a wink as a hideous stink
Came gushing with smoke from his ears
He then started hissing through teeth that were missing
He looked like he’d been dead for years
I climbed from my tomb and stood in the room
Where demons would hide out all day
Until in the night they’d screech their delight
And frighten the vicar away
But this little fellow with skin that was yellow
And nails that were long curly claws
Let out a howl, an unholy wail
Then went back and bolted the doors
Like rattles at Wembley, my bones were all trembly
My teeth were all chattering too
My wee wee was dribbling and let’s not be quibbling
I thought I was going to poo
It’s usually nice that we can’t die twice
So people down here dwell forever
I then realised that everyone dies
And now I’m not feeling too clever
For my turn came first, to enter the hearse
My beautiful love left alone
In these years apart she’s been in my heart
But hell’s darkest hole has no phone
So how could it be this thing before me
Could desecrate my sacred rest
I needed it banished, It had to be vanished
Along with the worms in its chest
I watched every worm wriggle and squirm
I jumped at the twelfth hour chime
In life we take knocks through the ticks and the tocks
But we can’t fight the passing of time
So...
In spite of the stink, I started to think
Which gave me the fright of my life
I had to make room in a new double tomb
For that hideous thing was my wife!
Entered October 2021 in Your Personal Favorite No 2
Sponsor L Milton Hankins
Echo from the lace-veiled night, whisper of a secret spring,
Gets lost in the recesses of my thought, hidden and undefeated.
There, where the dream embraces the dark eternity,
A soul wanders between dream and oblivion, seeking the pearls of shadows.
Is there, in the vastness of the cosmos, a tear so large,
To extinguish the burning flame of longing, to calm the restless dream?
In mysterious depths, dusted by eternal thoughts,
Heavy leaden eyelids rise towards the stars, praying in the profound night.
In the heart of autumn, dressed in rusty leaves,
The bell of suffering resounds under the silver moon,
The stars croak in chorus, gathering in a mystical song.
The trembling light of a candle, the immortal soul's flame,
Burns in the sanctuary of the chest, hidden beneath the veil of secrets.
On astral paths, unknown to the world, the stellar evening descends,
The wind brings questioning voices, echoes rushing through the cosmos.
Streams of tears flood the earth, with their deep bitterness,
Not even the seas can contain in their depths so much pain in flight.
Autumn falls over all that is alive, with storytelling steps,
And knocks on the windows with fingers of wind, unhurried, yet unyielding.
On a bench forgotten by the world, caressed by wind and time,
Sits a street bard, with a guitar to his chest, enchanting the empty time.
He plucks strings that carry spells and sweet sighs,
Weaving an ethereal canvas between joy and divine longings.
This urban wizard, hidden in the world's sidewalks,
Captures in silent songs, the echo of a heart fallen into somber tones.
How can I speak of pains and memories, when he paints shadows with sounds?
His song, a spell that weaves and unravels, soothing the heart's wounds and burns.
Time, that eternal alchemist, seeking unseen paths,
Looking deeply, my eyes wish to shine, to dance in the circles of the sky.
He shares the mystery of his thought, turning questions born of tears,
Into celestial sparks, transforming the burden into solace and knowledge.
His magic resonates, transforming into the whispers of the night,
In singing strings, each heartbeat sways and becomes clear.
Tell me, street wizard, with your sublime voice,
How many golden songs must we sculpt from our breath of wind,
Before the moon rises gloriously in the enchanted garden of the night?
Writing Yet Again, grab my
pad, I grab my pen, in deep
thought I begin to write my
feelings I hide within.
Within the deepest part of my
soul,
These emotions I can't control,
and yet my heart won't let you
go, can't walk away and this
you know.
Deep inside my heart just
bleeds, and now I'm always
feeling weak, u ask me
questions I can't speak, look
you've done, done to me.
It seems I'm always gettin
jelous but baby boy I just can't
help it, it's that thing called
love, I thought u felt it.
Everytime I hear a text I think
it's her textin you that, and
then you always turn ya back
Juss to respond now what is
that?
You told me that u loved me
now your walkin away from me,
got me feeling like the dummy,
and it hurts to know you'd
leave me lonely.
Yet and still I can't speak.....
There's a lot of things I see,
and I pretend that I don't peep,
and u always lie to me, I guess
I'm blinded by this love.
This silly thing that we call love,
no one said it'll hurt this much,
knocks you down, don't help
you up.
That's the reason I can't
speak...
I'm always yearning for ya kiss,
always dying for ya touch,
always needed you to hold
me,prolly cause I love you so
damn much, and it Juss hurts
cause you don't see.
I always thought that you were
perfect, thought that maybe
you were worth it, and us two
together was for a purpose,
was this a BIG,BIG MISTAKE?
Gave you my heart, you balled
it up,
And some how I still can't get
enough,
Have I really gotten weak?
I've always had ya back since
day one and that's a fact, now
it's ya turn, and I get ya ass....
To kiss.
I truly do believe a good girl
you had indeed, somehow
someway u dont need me, I
was too blinded by your love.
People always tried to tell me,
let it go cause he's not worthy,
worthy of ya love.
And I'd Just sit and cry, I'd try
and try to deny it, hoping you'd
Just change, but I see that they
were right.
I stand putting up this fight,
and I know you no longer
like.... Me or even care.
So now I'll let you walk away,
still you'd be thought of
everyday, I know I'll miss you
Sooo damn much.
But you were Just keepin me
stressed always worried bout
the rest, instead of being here
and loving me.
But this is what I once called
love and swore I couldn't get
enough,
But here's from me to you,
cause I can't speak.....
Year after year, young people inspire me.
The freshness of youth brings forth curiosity.
Diversity and personality scream, it seems –
Noisily, boisterously, playfully, hope knocks.
Each child has amazing talents to unlock.
Shy ones work in silence while some classmates tease.
Others squirm around on a whim and a breeze.
Did you guess? I am a substitute teacher.
I learn something new every day that I work.
I guess you might say it is a hidden perk.
I love my work and I love to learn from many.
There was one high school boy
A class leader who loved to rap –
Talking, laughing, rapping; class behavior zapped.
I saw impending disruption; So, I struck a deal.
My clever solution was a bit surreal.
When everyone finished their work, he could rap.
Work first, then fun was my motto; he took charge.
His group of "homies” got to work right away.
The classroom was silent that wonderful day.
So, just as I promised, ten minutes at the end,
He started a beat others joined from their seat.
Line upon line he rapped words with rhyme.
Then, point to a classmate who would rap in time.
It was so much fun to see faces aglow.
When he pointed to me, I used poetry.
From that day forward, when he was in my class,
He would ask me to write a class poem, alas.
They would give me a topic and a few key words.
The students worked first; then, my poem was heard.
They would listen to my poems line after line.
I can still see his face after all of these years.
The sparkle in his eyes untangled my fears.
Years later, I was bored out of my mind.
My hip disintegrated; I was confined.
What would I do? The answer, I could not find.
I remembered that boy and that he liked my work.
It was his and his classmates’ reactions –
They influenced me to take writing action.
I joined Poetry Soup; poetry became a love affair.
I met friends, studied forms and wrote anywhere.
Paper towels or notebook paper, it mattered not.
When away from my computer, I would jot.
That boy brought the beginning; self-confidence.
His cheery influence blessed me with lifetime joy.
They liked my poems; so, I wrote thousands more.
All of this because of one young boy who will never know,
It was his good-word raps that set my soul aglow.
March 8, 2017
Written for the Poetry Contest - Younger People Who Have Inspired You
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
(and felt neutral about stitching
together gainful employment)
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
Life lesson learned meant blurred line
between mendacity and truth
courtesy upbringing mommy dearest
if repeatedly drummed into me noggin
brutal honesty will bring nothing but bupkis,
or if you prefer the Yiddish spelling bobkes.