Long Lack Poems
Long Lack Poems. Below are the most popular long Lack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lack poems by poem length and keyword.
UNTIE WITH TITHE IF TIGHT
Descend from your boulder of woe
into the vineyard where great men sow;
here is my escape wonder park,
inscribed: Givers Never Lack;
betwixt the valley of indecision & greed
whether to eat or sow the seed.
Seek reference from scripture & read
Malachi three verse ten, which is the in-thing.
You only require "a tenth of everything":
"Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse,
that there may be meat in My house.
Test Me in this, and see if I will not, from heaven,
throw open the floodgates of heaven
and pour out so much blessing feast
that you'll not have room 'nough for it",
says the Lord Almighty,
then your gloom will shine brightly.
Why debate on this when money is vanity.
Loosen your bands with your liberality,
credulously accept Divine reality,
forever forgo fallacious fastidious fellows
and professional pay-hunting "prophets".
If your ancestor and Pathfinder, Abraham, tithed
to King of Salem, Melchizedek (symbolizing God) - being entreated,
(King of Salem means King of Peace),
why shouldn't his offspring also pay tithes?
Don't haggle, only seek what Christ requires:
a dime dole-out from your dearly dollar$
or a penny of your plenty precious pounds.
Will a man rob God & get away...for life?
"Yet ye robbed Me...in tithes & offerings" while baskin' in your strife.
The only remedy is to untie the resultant curse & pain
with timely tithe of your income or gain
in other to enjoy bountiful harvest of rain.
VickWizzy.
Reference: Malachi 3 verse 8 & 10, KJV Bible.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}.
Copyright © May 18th, 2020.
Age is just a number they say,
But when it come to relationships,
They take that back,
When it comes to applications for work,
They take that back,
When it comes to a sound mind ,
They take that back,
When they don't value experience,
They take that back,
When they think retirement homes ,
They take that back,
When they think good health,
They take that back,
When they think value to society,
They take that back,
When they want opinions,
They take that back.
Yet when they have tried inexperience,
Yet when they have tried overconfidence,
Yet when they have tried arrogance,
Yet when they have tried lack of initiative,
Yet when they have tried professional turner uppers,
Yet when they have tried those when seldom turn up,
Yet when they have tried those who look good on paper,
Yet when they have tried fly-by-nighters',
Yet when they have tried those who party all night,
Yet when they have tried those who take yet more sick leave,
yet when they have tried those with hidden agendas,
Yet when they find customer relations are at rock bottom,
Or when the aged person is the last one standing,
Or when they start losing money because of any,
Or all of the above,
Age really does not matter.
Just ask the average 5 year old,
Who look at the person not the age,
Save yourself all the hassle,
And heaps of money.
Blasphemy…cloud over their hearts of gold
Their value gradually diminishes…their weapons turn to mold
Serenity…deserted them and neglected them like orphans
Their joy rapidly wears out…they mislaid their abundant portions
They yearn,
“RESTORE the walls of Jericho!”
Anguish…shadows over their dwelling, sacred place
Their weaknesses manipulate them – they’re the definition of disgrace
Danger…defeats them and tarnished them as if they were worthless
Their prosperity shattered straightaway! REBUILD our merriness!
They plead and pray,
“Dona nobis pacem…”
Hear our hesitation and supplication…we’re beneath the bricks and remains
We’re buried alive literally! We’re becoming one with the ground
Fear and despair erases our soothing dreams…we’re getting washed away in the drains
We’re searching for shelter…we’re getting hunted down – we’re barely surviving
They churn…
They coil…
They drift away…
They spoil…
In their miseries…
Does He hear their pleas?
“SAVE ME!”
“Bestow blessings upon us!”
Are you ignoring us deliberately?
“Give us a helping hand
And lead us to the promise land!”
Misfortune unravels in this city of bafflement
Their strengths repaired our souls…we’re the definition of bravery!
Desolation and disbelief demolishes the walls of Jericho…
Does anyone sense their resentment?
Their charity transformed to greed suddenly –
Their lack of optimism and gratitude
Buried them down in captivity
How can you bear their poverty?
How can He save them from destruction and pity?
They whisper on His Holy Hill,
“Dona…Nobis…Pacem…”
Don’t let the battle overthrow ’em!
To me, a Man-child is an adult male who acts like a child: immature, lazy, unkempt, idiotic, silly, annoying etc. Usually it is someone you either work with or live with. This poem is a nod to the poem Monday's child is fair of face, but with a twist.
Monday's Man-child is a total disgrace
(A drunken stupor with open arms he will embrace)
Tuesday's Man-child got a gob full of mace
(he tried it on with the wrong pretty face)
Wednesday's Man-child has to go and get his Giro
(cos his bank balance is now showing a big fat zero)
Thursday's Man-child is feeling kinda low
(so he stays in bed stinking of tabs and B.O.)
Friday's Man-child is all about chilling
(a lads' night in where zero f@cks are given)
Saturday's Man-child is off to the footy - 3 points he's a wishing
(then off to the pier for a couple hours of fishing)
And the Man-child heads back to the pub on Sunday
(A few beers and games of pool he'll play)
A Man-child's week isn't very nice
(It's fair to say it's hardly one to suffice)
It might just be he's in a rut - with a lack of support or understanding.
(He's in a repetitive cycle; a tornado that keeps on turning)
One week to the next, it's the same old routine
(It's a shout for help - one that remains unseen)
Salvation came just as he was to give up all hope,
(A merry band of guys, who help each other to cope)
For Man-child now, a Monday is one to look forward to
(He knows he can speak his mind as do all the other guys do)
Man-child goes to Andy's Man Club, and this decision was the best
(Cos now he shares a positive or anything to get off his chest)
this sets him up for the week ahead, last week's woes now a line in the sand
(Andy Roberts, your story has saved hundreds across England, Wales and Scotland)
So if you see Man-child in yourself too, and you don't know what to do
(get yourself to your local AMC, and be part of a special kinda crew).
The original poem is below:
Monday's child is fair of face.
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living.
And the child born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, good and gay.
It wasn’t for a lack of effort on my part.
I caressed the sadness inside her heart
I knew of the bleeding from the very start
Influencing my actions and every remark
I saw a girl, I’d seen before
I felt the pain, as it aroused my sore
I was that girl, in a lost world
Long ago, when I washed ashore
How could I begin to explain
My weathered shell had more than changed
Sadness, over time, had me rearranged
I didn’t resemble this girl. Myself, I claimed
I shook this overwhelming feeling
Of being her light, and with knowledge, healing
It occurred to me, that she must be willing
To believe the story that I was spilling
But how would she know, if she couldn’t see
How could she accept it, coming from me
Outward appearance forms a strong belief
It lays the foundation for what you perceive
Completely embarrassed, I humbly sighed
I could see the confusion as soon as I tried
Because the girl I knew, has long since died
All that remains is on the inside
And I fear, that despite my efforts
She still walked away
Devastatingly unaware of her beauty
Autumn foliage clings to the earth as another spring lays dying.
She walks there among the rustle of my thoughts. The ever-present
sound of her steps upsetting nature in its serenity only long
enough to remind that she, like the fall, is a thing of natural beauty.
I'd paint her in my mind if I possessed the brush: Yet, I lack in
conviction when set to wonder if I could carry the memory to canvas.
I watch her as she looks up and offers a shameless smile,
loving the appraisal of my gaze. The moment exists for us alone.
To accent the point; her hair is drawn behind her ear with the delicate
brush of fingers, exposing her divine countenance. She walks with slow
purpose causing the sway of her hips to become quite appealing to my
eyes. She was always a creature of such reform, a wisp of finesse.
Her lip captured between her teeth, she worries it gently with her
thoughts. Slowly pacing the grounds as she seeks a way to buy back
the while. A moment in a lifetime of moments. Her laugh, so endearing
to me, clutches at a heart that was wild until the day it set upon her.
I'm captivated in the pooling oceans of her eyes. She said something
then. I know she addresses me and yet the words fall short in my absence
of rational thought. I'd kiss her, I know she wouldn't prevent me.
It is a gift for the taking and so misplaced on a soul quite undeserving.
I'd kiss her but then be drowned in the torment of wanting for more than
she could offer. Another day, another week, or month, or.... or years.
But I am off now to the coast, to port. She is off in my memories. An illusion
of a misplaced past that could have been more than a fleeting moment.
I stare now at the fields from my carriage with the turning of another
autumn. I'm reminded of the place they lay her to rest. A winter chill
having claimed her in all her elegance. I can't help but wonder if it
were a heart turned cold and broken instead.
But never slip by the words so vivid in her voice, so haunting in my dreams,
"I love you, forever and always." In moments that are destined never to
arrive, she waits. I left her waiting forever... I left her waiting for always.
~Wrote for a character of a book I was working on~
The sun has risen, and a dove is cooing outside my window. All the tall buildings on my block seem to be resting. Here I am thinking of the cave man—his strength, his battles. Skylines, super tall buildings, and yes, some of us are not liking the look of our city. When there is no hope for your city, its citizens suffer tremendously. Why do other cities thrive better than some? The big question is, what makes a city thrive? ‘The more people you bring in, the more vibrant the city will become,’ Euchner said. But who are these people? (Ha! Ha! Profit holders.) Lack of empathy, people struggling with mixed feelings. While the impacts of rats in the subways make the alley cats stay low in the darkest alley, the sun has risen, and a dove coos outside my window. Meanwhile, the morning sun on the tall buildings seems hopeless. Here I am thinking of the cave man’s mental state: My brain is tired, my soul seems a bit weary, and I need more sleep (so mentally fatigued). Comme ci, comme ça!”
Once, a hundred cigarettes
glowed in just one cinema.
Arrows flew yet all were near misses,
random unaimed bullets easily knocked over
bunches of whooping Comanches.
Some horses were shot unseen off-screen.
In small Midwest towns fantasy roamed unchecked
nibbling at young hearts and brains.
Many adults pinned their hopes
on the aerodynamic tailfins of Chevy Stingrays
and more spaceship roundness in their homes.
Malls proliferated on the edge of cornfields
where prayers were answered on Sunday.
All this was normal, no one marked our
lack of awareness, we were painted innocent
by a world that had come to terms with
its time.
We knew much was wrong
some radicals fought for the oppressed.
Texas Rangers stood ready to lasso
hordes of cartoon villains.
A few federal agents imagined time travel.
The whole country was going somewhere
and working hard to ignore where we were,
as if in fact, we were all stuck in a movie
peering over the glow of a hundred cigarettes.
My eyes...glisten
My ears...listen
Don't worry so much
Don't hurry to feel success's touch
I've been wearing the mask of shame
I've been bearing these fears in my hands
I'm telling you that I am not to blame
My wandering mind is a million lovely lands
Then suddenly...
The wilderness of my fears
Reduced me to many tears
You're being unreasonable
Woe is you? That's a cry baby's label!
Feeling like a frenzied flamingo on a leash
Suddenly, I feel more alive and you're out of my reach
Nothing lasts forever, so don't take life for granite
Suddenly, I feel like I'm not the only victim in this pit...
Pit of pain and lack of prosperity
Mesmerized by the sunlight of sincerity
I'm starving for wisdom from on high
There's a feeling of mistrust towards you I can't deny
Suddenly, I feel...out of place
And I saw you without a trace
I am willing to embrace God's grace
Can't you see the sweat on my face?
My dreams...are broken again
At the seams...in this dangerous den
I long for brighter days and nights
I can't put up with the constant flights and fights
People are different in so many ways
That naming them never would cease to amaze
And though you could try ‘til the end of your days,
You’d never be able to do it.
From what they might wear to what they believe,
Their life style choices and what they achieve,
The places they live and ideas they conceive,
An outsider couldn’t intuit.
Religions (or lack of), political choices,
Silent and inward or raising their voices,
How and for what someone sulks or rejoices,
Each get judged by the way people view it.
That, I guess, is the rub, for when we don’t agree
With the actions of others to any degree,
There’ll be sadness or anger, for I guarantee
Most just don’t even try to subdue it.