Long Lifesaving Poems
Long Lifesaving Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifesaving by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifesaving poems by poem length and keyword.
THE SUM OF LIFE
The Sum Of life:
Between the earth and the
sunset is a Grey matter,
between your skull and your brain
is a Grey matter,
at times I feel like gray matter;
Everyone speaks and recognizes...
OZONE, or the black hole,
they speak of space,
time, and dimension...
But me, Grey matter
I am the most important matter,
the substance that form-fills,
conforms to any space it occupies.
I am always with you in many ways
I am omnipresent.
Who knows why I continue to shield you.
Sometimes I am mucus or gel-like,
I am despised on sight,
I am gray -matter...
I cause beauty to happen though.
I am not beautiful.
Unless you train your eyes
to see things differently,
see with an all-seeing eye.
You see my insides.
Did you know there's no life without me?
for I am the" embryonic sac”?
I may even be God; The Deliverer.
I am Grey matter, you turn up your nose at me,
shun, and ignore me; Slime I am.
Life-giving, lifesaving, Grey Matter.
Human beings you are full of me like it or not.
I may even be the God in you.
There's nothing wrong with grey,
Gray Matter saves "Hallelujah".
Gray matter, I want to thank you right now,
I praise you right now I never recognized you
but know my 3rd eye is open right now.
Thank you, Grey Matter,
for your slime producing snails,
research revealing cures in the
Grey Matter of their slime, worthy is thy gel...
"Hallelujah" Gray Matter... Gray Matter:
The only matter that matters.
The fact of the matter is
without you, there would be no matter.
The only matter that matters is Gray Matter;
No matter what's' the matter,
for any matter, no matter what.
I will always remember what, matter, matters.
Blood is red, and we see it occasionally,
some even worship it;
It is good to see blood every now and then
because we know it sustains.
Like the sunsets on the seashore,
the unsettling dust of the "Grey" the great gray,
the greatness of grayness is performing.
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2016
Love whispers gently to my heart
Heralding the ache when we’re apart
Lust beckons with senses of affection
Reflecting on the desire in our connection
Love compels me to free all my emotions
Creating feelings that are full of devotions
Lust delights in touching my naked skin
Stroking my waist with a desire to begin
Love urges me to feel free in my compassion
Liberating me to the need to ignore fashion
Lust stimulates my spirit’s core with a thrill
Teaching me to be thankful for longing’s skill
Love colors my world with vivid hues of scarlet
Exposing the ways I could have been a harlot
Lust opens the door to feelings of pure yearning
Touching my depths with a fire that keeps burning
Love encompasses me with feelings of concern
Coaching me to believe in the sensitivity I will learn
Lust embraces me with a pure and gentle craving
For the secret tenderness which is so lifesaving
Love amazes me with it’s beautiful faith in feelings
Summoning me to recall all the joy in my dealings
Lust fills my spirit with so many hot-blooded emotions
Flowing through my core the way of misty blue oceans
Love lingers within my sensations creating a promise
That all prayers will be in spite of the doubting Thomas
Lust breathes in my pores, opening the door to fascination
Filling my mind and thoughts with an enthusiastic elation
Love or Lust Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: D.W. Rodgers
June 28, 2020
I am sorry
like the days and nights of our lives
those having to witness
human hunger, discrimination,
injustice and oppression.
I am sorry
like all the rivers of the world
those giving lifesaving water
intakes our poison.
I am sorry
like the sky, wind, forests, and the mountains
they help us breathe, but in return,
we are choking them.
I am sorry
like all the other living things on earth
and in the seas
for their service to mankind
they receive betrayal and extinction.
I am sorry
like all our holy scriptures
we stain their page after page of peace
with the blood of our violence.
I am sorry
like the earth and the heavens
whose greatest human race
failed to fly yet a true flag of peace
for all the nations of the world.
(10.24.2023)
While looking for ways to make cash.
I got an idea from my smart wifey Ash.
She learned of donating my plasma.
Which might make meds for asthma.
So looking into it I really was a skeptic.
Wanted to avoid risks of seeing a medic.
But I learned I keep most of my red cells.
The places are clean without odd smells.
So I gave it a shot and got screened.
My confidence in this was redeemed.
No one felt the needles and screamed.
It wasn’t as sketchy as it first seemed.
People here appear calm and relaxed.
Not coming across emotionally taxed.
We clenched fists to help machines pump.
Giving a lifesaving plasma supply a bump.
These phlebotomists are a friendly group.
The local CSL team operates like a troop.
Making the process as smooth as can be.
Donating is a relaxing experience for me.
The cash covers a few expenses these days. And soending a few hours here weekly pays.
If you can give blood this is a better option.
But only for those who follow their caution.
So check out your CSL to see for yourself.
If your donation experience feels top shelf.
'Twas the night before Christmas and I was waiting for a blind date
He never showed, I decided to leave as it was getting very late
I downed my wine and quickly ate the burger left cold on my plate
I started choking on the burger, now feeling panicked and faint
Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind in a heimlich lifesaving embrace
Feeling both embarrassed and grateful, I was flushed red in the face
I turned to thank him and noticed he was dressed in a sexy elf suit
He said he was delayed by work, I blushed, he was incredibly cute
He asked if I’ve been waiting long for my blind date to arrive
then invited me along his ride tonight to get away from this dive
Parked outside, there was a huge golden sleigh full of Christmas gifts
He said it was his ride as he was stuck working late checking his lists
I climbed into the sleigh, the seat felt velvety warm and comfortable too
He said, “hold on to your seat, I have an adventure date instore for you”
We glided along the night sky as I helped him deliver all the Christmas gifts
He thanked me for helping, now I knew that Santa’s sleigh is not a myth
He then landed and parked the sleigh at a charming gingerbread house
And told me he has been staying with his family since losing his spouse
To my surprise, at the door there stood Santa, all jolly, drinking some cheer
He thanked me for helping, and said, “welcome to the Kringle family, my dear!”
I ate a cake in order to stay up late
Seeing that I stayed up late, I ate a cake
So, my darling pursued me with a broom
Livid, she chased me all around the room
She was taking this to the extreme. Make no mistake
We are talking about all the pieces of the cake
I tried apologizing. The timing was too soon
My body is suffering from a serious wound
"But Cupcake, I know how to make another cake”
With big tears in her eyes, that was my lifesaving break
I urged her, "Dear, could we now get a hospital room?"
"But wait, I will have my cake. Let's perform a handshake"
I crossed my fingers. Because, I would become immune
I will bake a cake or purchase one. Make no mistake
I’m like a raccoon eager for the next opportune
Updated 5/14/2019
Form:
Tonight I will not write
of stars, nor moon,
seeds of wisdom--
just mind flattering
bloom--
Nor will I write of love--
neither here nor above;
though our dearest
sentimentality, the heart,
too often foolishly enacts
its own fatality;
and if I decide to write
(which I have not yet)
it will not be the common
dark vs light--
No, not this, low, literary-fruit
will I harvest, arm and lather;
pick high and low to gather--
likewise, I will divest of
good angels vs evil counterparts--
my rules, my pen; therefore, for me,
some spades can be clubs,
and all pointed diamonds I declare
are now well-rounded, suitable, hearts--
Nor will my Poetic-theme
be of great, vast seas;
nor smaller phrases
of streams—the writer’s
usual surge to roar
that calms to a sleepy bore….
and certainly not
will I write about depth
of self esteem--
the shallow image of self
often incapable of
of deep, worthy gleam;
though seldom do others
see us mere puddles
as we to ourselves
are wrong to deem
(though never approaching
the great-self,
alas, most of us
will only let dream)--
so, tonight, self for me will rest...
and if brought to theme
it will only be for rhyme, my easy best;
Oh! That Poetic Shopping-cart:
shelves of prose! Aisles of mesmeric gleams!
like Poe’s mystic schemes--
clouds feeding voraciously off headless peaks—
those fantastical shoulders we desperate writers
must climb if to find our lofty seeks--
all creative mind’s begging for such volcanic leaks—
No! I will not pontificate on these, for the best programmers
many do still believe are little more than
Charlatans or geeks--
Nor as subject will I attempt the Divine;
our soul’s hope to progress, as wine,
to some vintage state--though, without tasting,
when compared to life’s offered new...
such abstaining, perhaps, not worth
the spirit's residue--
Nor will I attempt metaphors yet more mysterious--
maybe, even delirious; though often told
such intoxicating views, like the morning dews
can be practical lifesaving for both greens and blues--
sadly, such pasture-valleys thoughtless men
have turned to breathless, rat-infested alleys;
No! Tonight
should I decide to write
I will write of other things…
I will write...hum….
I will write… simply, Goodnight….
Written: May 11, 2025, for contest by: Sara Jama
Quote: “Let the beauty of what you love be what you do. Sorrow prepares you for joy." By Rumi
********************
Sky unveils a deep, katabatic chasm
Fuchsia flames ignite blooms, slicing in layers of strife
Brilliant yantras reside in our mental spaces
As we boldly paint our stories upon chattered hearts
Harboring emotional shrapnel and sorrows.
A memory prison beckons us to descry
Heart-hyacinths, mysterious luna
As sapphire armor shields my spirit,
While magnolias, mist—bereft of magic, wafts rot in time.
I no longer wish to conform to the lamenters
I feel like a ghost playing pranks after being imprisoned
Surrounded by shameful shards and a gloomy silence
Soft sighs leave emotional marks on the skin
As I grieve and descend into the abyss.
Hope hatches a hopeful heart while malaise mourns
Struggle and bloom quarrel in my heart's heavy cloak
A kismet-woven quilt groans as it falls in harsh brooks
Wicked words scatter like venom in a broken glass.
Vehement rants veiled in vivid visions of the soul
Everything hurts, and shrapnel pierces my core
In a heated chaos, whispers sprout Kenospia kernels
In cosmic calls, I gain wild, wielding a quill to sever ties.
How can love bear pain or looming ruin to serve solace?
Heat fuels molten bronze as heaven whims.
Painful pillars tugged at my chest, luring my torn spirit
Lost lifesaving light wanes as lethal rise dims into the chasm.
Little hurts cross defects, sparks ignite a vast blaze
Torn souls find a stern shelter, and an icy stream kills chaos.
Shame glistens in the moonlight, and stampeded disease stings.
It’s been three weeks
since I was in the grocery store,
and an emptiness weighs,
as if I’d lost a friend.
The government issued orders
for people like me,
calling it “social distancing.”
“Stay home,” they say.
Going to a place containing what I need--
things like crumbled feta cheese,
or low sodium pasta sauce,
is like being with a trusted companion.
Greeting cashiers by name
makes each spree a social event,
as well as a lifesaving one
that refills the pantry.
My last visit began with an App,
where I selected what I wanted,
and ended when a stranger
put bags into the back of my car.
My larder might be full,
but my heart feels empty--
deprived of its weekly ritual
of hunting and gathering with friends.
So many needs; So many hungry; So many homeless; So many good endeavors; So many requests for help; So many fraud-based endeavors.
But what more can I do? And who do I help, and how? Who do you dismiss, and why? Do we dare say 'No' to every phone call? No way can we say 'yes' to every request. Must I also respond to other charities as well? But I already channel my giving through my church. I know not what course others may or may not take; nor do I know how others should or should not respond. But not long ago, I found a fulfilling way that works for me.
For a good while, I was asking myself, "What can they do with so little when their need is so great? Will they appreciate my little gift or will they look down on me?" I felt better when a 'Thank you' letter came to me a few weeks ago. It read, "Your generous gift of $1 in December 2017 to ..... will help continue the lifesaving care for children like 9-year old ...."
I must share with you in condensed form the reason for that letter which came from one of at least about six different organizations that I support with $1 per month. I am so very excited about the new personal missions endeavor that God placed on my heart more than a year ago. So many well-meaning charities are constantly asking for money, and for a long time, I simply said "No, I'm sorry. I give to my church and that's about all I can do". But one day I sensed that a still small voice was speaking to me that said, "You can send each organization $1 each month that they send you a letter requesting a donation. I said "Yes" to that voice that I believe was God's voice. He showed me how to do a little bit more than I was already doing, and I am a much richer man for having done so.
060521PSCtest(2nd contest entry), $ Poetry Contest, Anthony Biaanco
02132018 FB PS Contest, Your Favorite Poem Written In February, Laura Loo