Long Leave alone Poems
Long Leave alone Poems. Below are the most popular long Leave alone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leave alone poems by poem length and keyword.
I am jotting down blueprints...
Mapped out as such to give hints.
As if a gun comprising trigger...
Planned as such for something bigger.
Creative writing I am making...
Yours for optional taking.
Aiming to make a collection...
Seeking so in my direction.
Poems I am writing somehow...
In the scheme of things for now.
Ideas formed inside my mind...
Uploaded, most you will find.
All of which I am using...
Not all when it comes to choosing.
Some serve as a stepping stone...
Others, I will leave alone.
If I write regarding you,
Chances are that this brain stew
Is more personal - true and tried...
Likely to be kept aside.
Otherwise, such other visions...
Considered in my decisions.
Collected, reworked in this case...
Stay posted and watch this space.
BED ESCAPE.
It was at dawn,
She can recall vividly,
She was on her own,
Shedding tears secretly,
At her young unripe age,
Hers was due marriage.
Men voices could be heard,
Full of laughter and joy,
Some arguing loudly,
In abid to increase herd size,
After in a while,they agree,
Ooh,someone got a wife.
In the room,she is worried,
No more studies for her,
Her ambitions,aborted,
Her future darkened,
Leave alone child bearing,
With an immature pelvis.
She recalls Mother Pacifica,
How girls got saved through her,
She opened the window,
Slowly she climbed,
One..two..three..Hurray!,
Out at last,she fled.
Where is she,her dad asked,
Look for her,said the groom to be,
They tried,but in vain,
She had reached her salvation,
The bed of torture,pain was gone,
Thank you God,she sighed with relief
I made a covenant with my eyes,
Never to look lustfully at the thighs,
Not to look suggestively at a lady,
Not to admire her pulchritudinous body,
What has happened now..,
I find myself sinning in a row,
Am selling my eyes ooh,come buy them naah!
I assured myself not to utter,
Anything of romance as it would be bitter,
I promised to see all ladies as my sister,
Never to seduce,allure them, but sisterly utter,
Everything has changed,
Satan,his angels have my mind mingled,
Am selling my eyes ooh,come buy them naah!
Whenever I see a lady,I become hot,
My eyes see a beautiful lady,a sister not,
They conjoin the brain to admire,
I find myself salivating, and a phone number, I acquire,
I say I will text her bible verses,
But the conspiracy in me bring love advances,
Am selling my eyes ooh,come buy them naah!
At times,am sitted planless,
A lady passes,my eyes pop out in questness,
They make me call the damsel,
Witnessing as I prepare my journey to hell,
Instead of preventing me from sinning,
They always see every skirt stunning,
Am selling my eyes ooh,come buy them naah!
Enough is enough,am damn tired,
Females have nicknamed me a sex bud,
A womaniser is my new noun,
Leave alone seductor which is my pronoun,
Can't I not live in peace,
Or are they a necessity for being at ease,
Am selling my eyes ooh,come buy them naah!
Eyes have produced killer kings,
Made them sin with rings,
Are they not eyes that made king David,
see Bathsheba full with beauty gravid,
And conspirated to make her husband killed,
As he enjoys what his eyes reaped,
Am selling my eyes ooh,come buy them naah!
How I wish my eyes be lustfulless,
In every last they see,ugliness,
In every skirt around,tightless,
In every girl child creations, bootyless,
For every thighs seen,smoothless,
And for an engagement with my brain to sin,cordless,
Am selling my eyes ooh,come buy them naah!
Dear Lord, I know have sinned greatly,
Fallen short of your glory broadly,
I beg for another chance,
To revive and change for once,
Help me God,let me be prayerful,
As I train my eyes not be lustful,
Am selling my eyes ooh, come buy them naah!
PoetIgweee
A new immigrant now comes:
I see him on our streets,
I see him on the factory floor,
I see him at an old friend's desk--
How I would that there he would stop!
But robots they are: neither modesty nor empathy
they know.
He doesn't look like us
And won't speak our language;
Our culture he regards as sickness or weakness;
Fun he scorns and labors all day
And so is a favorite of the lords and gods
That make and own the business world.
Against him closed borders are no defense,
And from him scarce a job is secure--
Except, of course, in politics and poetry.
From those worlds our solace will come--
The muscle of vision and that of words
By which one day to claw back our world.
It's best, though, that it never comes to this:
If robots truly have come of age
Their father's house they should leave alone
And their own go build on faraway Mars.
Be they warned that "the meek shall inherit
the earth"
And that meekness ever is on our side
For the last several days the birds have got the blues
Are averse to come out of their colored cage
For the last several days I didn't look at my shoes
Leave alone traveling in the fields blue and beige
Suddenly the pen hums as if speaking out
It normally keeps low-key like a mute afternoon
As you don't water me nowadays I won't sprout
In pink and yellow flowers calling the lagoon
The paper too goes restless and rustles
In the wind of breath from my wheezing nostrils
No colors nor paints to offer me muscles
I will no more call the flowery mountains and hills
I keep looking at the lumps of watered clay
The sky refusing to shift from useless gray
Umpteen fleas on the table calling the hands to slay
I look for flowers on the hedge between the night and day
When I got my right hand fractured,
Owing to a fall, I never felt fear captured;
My left wrist is right, and I could do,
I thought, my duties, I will never woe;
Destiny, yet, has its unique ways,
Every hand has God's image rays;
What man plans need not come true,
Man's fall before God can triviality prove;
I fell again and broke my left wrist,
Like a wings-clipped bird my trust got a twist;
I was like a handicapped now, I understood,
Though many, to assist me, with me ever stood;
My body they washed; my hunger they fed,
My bed they made and made sure I slept;
My heart, yet, grew restless amidst cares rare,
Sleeplessness had become my daily share;
Thoughts mine flew far away from me,
Like bats and owls, at night, flying free;
And peeped the lives of people like me,
Handicapped yet trust in divine mercy;
I could feel the pain of the ham-handed,
Lame, deaf, dumb, and born-blind-eyed;
With hands of hope and legs of trust,
Led by inner light they go glee-lit;
Though, like a romantic, I used to think,
I must be their savior; but in truth, shrunk;
My pities and sympathies turned utopian,
That had no reality-rooted love and action;
It's, hence, new wisdom, now, I went ahead,
When I am well I'll fulfill all I'd missed, I said -
The moments I failed to look at the lame,
Leave alone aiding them to reach their aim;
I would reach out to the blind who constantly,
Stumble and fall and try to rise consciously;
Poor and needy who I had turned my eyes from,
The fallen that needed hands to hold them firm;
And every helpless creature of this universe,
Who needs love and care I’ll give true solace;
Thank you, Lord, for granting me this realization,
May my celebrations ever become love-oblation!
20 November 2021
Thanksgiving Blessings Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Thing's and the time's are a changing
and moving at such a tumultuous
and fluid rate
The blinking rapid eye movement
can barely keep up pace with it
at all
Unfortunately like everything in life
sometimes progress also has a dark
downside to it as well
We only later find out to our detriment
and cost when we eventually catch up
And then we have to begin and find
ourselves picking the bones out of it
and the long and hard process
Of righting our many wrongs which
when once done and set in stone
Take far more time to fix than they
did to create
For every cause also has and comes
dually precipitated by its counter butterfly
effect
And that in part will not so much as be
a simple ripple or a tremor
But be much more like akin to a tsunami
tidal wave of biblical proportions
The likes of which will make the age
old tale we we're taught in school
about
Noah and his Ark seem like mere
child's play just a man in a boat
caught out cold in a precipitous
rain storm
What is far more relevant truth be
told to me is he like us was given fair
warning but listened and heeded to
the advice given
Whereas what we tend to do is rather
just tut and mutter under our breath
Would have could have should have
what if only and but , but , but
I was a fish I would now be happily riding
and surfing the crest of this wave
Until this here wave eventually begins
to ebb and tapers out and huts the
shore and someone shouts dry land ahoy
Then I wish to be a fish no longer and
be returned to my once former self
So I can walk once again upon dry land
As if nothing has changed at all straight
right back to my old life of catching butterflies
just for fun and my own entertainment
Back to feigning progress isn't anything
but regressions well disguised in
actuality that is enabling us to do less
and less each passing day
Because we are so busy we barely have
a single second left to save a second more
Doing barely what exactly less than nothing
at all apart from spending more quality
time tapping touchscreen keys
On our new best friend what used to
be nothing more than just a phone
That we now can't seem to leave alone
for or constantly check for longer than
a matter of second's not minutes
After we met
I thought we really had something,
Really hit it off.
It wasn’t the words we spoke,
The easy fluorescent trail they made.
Maybe it was the Japanese lantern
Glowing over your bare shoulder
Or the smile you threw
To the side-
To someone.
Or maybe it was the cool damp air,
Slight seduction of rain
But no rain.
Perfect, cool molecules,
Layer on layer,
Air sitting on air.
But after, I couldn’t find you.
I couldn’t find you
In the heavy-sitting valleys,
Behind the cool barriered hedges
With stone guard dogs,
In the palm shadowed boulevards
Or the canyon mazes.
I couldn’t find you
In the final exhalations of space,
On sun baked, cracked cement plaza drives.
I couldn’t find you
In the starkly lined avenues
Amongst the serious-expressioned manikins.
It really is a desert here, huh?
Had said the pale cheeked waiter from Wisconsin
While we waited for you to come back.
Yes, I thought, touching the sweating water glass.
A stage set in a desert
Filled with mirages and promises
And doors that no one answers
And roads that curve toward the sun.
We both knew you weren’t coming back.
I won’t find you again
But I will keep looking
And looking
And looking.
There is always that chance.
Yes, to find someone like you.
That chance.
I leave alone,
Tip under plate.
A dog barks at my steps,
Waits, barks again.
We are both close,
Yet impossibly,
Far from home.
An Old Man’s Bedtime Prayer
Lord: Now I lay me down to rest.
To get away from this days test.
To rest my head on pillows fluff.
To clear my head of all the stuff.
That comes your way as you get old.
It’s part of life that’s seldom told.
I hope to get some 10 hrs. sleep.
I’ll probly end up counting sheep.
As I look back across my days.
I know I’ve sinned in many ways.
I’m real sorry. I’ve told you that.
To say again just sounds “old hat”.
But now I plead for this short break.
To get some rest for bodies sake.
If you “Oh LORD” my wish would grant.
And do for me something I can’t.
For I’ve no strength, my life to take.
Just let me die before I wake.
For my old joints have turned to rust.
I’d just as soon they’re back to dust.
Lord: If I’d wake and look about.
I’d “Hoot & Holler” and give a shout.
If I would find that was my fate.
To there be standing, inside “The Gate”
To know at last I’d passed the test.
I don’t need seats among the best.
It’s enough to not be missed.
My name was on His special list.
But you know best, I’m sure of that.
So if I wake, I’ll just hang pat.
I’ll dream of red, rare, steaks so fat
To ponder where the “Good Times” at.
I’ll shuffle through another day.
And burn more bills we strain pay.
To keep us warm in this cold pit.
And by the window now to sit.
As I think back to ‘yester’ years.
With all the joy, few sprinkled tears.
I never dreamed, these “Golden Years”
Would be so filled with pain and fears.
I never thought I’d leave alone.
My wife & I would share our home.
But when I’m gone, alone she’ll bow.
She’ll need get by . . .I don’t know how.
With this I’ll close my nightly plea.
I’d be forever in debt to thee.
If you would oft stop by this way.
To comfort wife here every day.
Written to honor all the elderly that
Struggle with their health, their obligations,
their present & their future.
"In order for one to conquer a nation,
one must first disarm the nation's citizens."
- Adolf Hitler
*
..and that's the true reason for our second amendment.
It was established to prevent the over throw of our government,
by they elected who do not The People truly represent,
be they any of the many elected, appointed or hired public servants
including and not limited to our government's elected or appointed president.
Disarming Our Nation
Will Be Our Ultimate Damnation.
It would be way to much of an accessible temptation
for the powers that be
who pursue power with greed
for ultimately world domination,
and if you believe that such a thing is a far fetched ridiculous notion,
well that's exactly how the powers that be want you to continue thinking.
...in the meantime I say, "Leave Alone My 2nd Amendment!"