Long Limit Poems
Long Limit Poems. Below are the most popular long Limit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Limit poems by poem length and keyword.
The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.
It’s because though,
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…
And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative,
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,”
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively
from others simply because reality goes before me.
Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think,
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.
Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose,
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men
who are not able to face the facts as they are.
[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place
full of wonders.]
MY SWEETHEART PART 2!
This love is from the bottom of my heart
I love you my sweetheart
You are the queen of my heart
Your heart belongs to my heart
Your beauty satisfies my vulnerable heart
I know you won't break down my heart,
But please build your space and echo in my heart
Your smile and your eyes make me proud
Because I know you have the Mona Lisa fraud
Stars, moon and the sun bow down for your beauty
They don't contain such beauty
My sweetheart allow me to name you Beauty
Sure case my sweetheart your beauty matches the nature's beauty
Don't allow me to say dark beauty or any beauty
But allow me to say you have an African beauty
We share cheers for charity
We love each other for surerity
Like I said earlier our love have clarity
As it needs good and excellent maturity
True love for you darling doesn't quantity
But it acquires strong and jubilant quality
God gave me a gift of charity
And I'm obsessed with that charity
I know you are going to change me
You are not going to drain me
But you are going to develop me
You are not going to exhaust me
But you are going to exhault me
You won't disappoint me
But you will appoint me
Seriously you won't downgrade me
But you will upgrade me
Sweetheart, I love you
You are starring me like you are dressing my dirty mind
You are so beautiful and merciful to me
Beautiful like diamonds in the sky
Beautiful like the moon shining on the sky
Beautiful like cirrocumulus clouds on the sky
Only God and ancestors can tell because they live above the sky
In our love, the limit of all these things will be the sky
Sweetheart, I love you my sweetie pie
I know I will be enjoying you more than a king pie
They usually call me the calf of the November cloud
And my feelings are pregnant like the Nimbus clouds
Not everyone like Nimbus clouds
Only farmers are in love with the Nimbus clouds
Others like cumulus and cirrus clouds
I'm sure my feelings have desire like can stratus clouds
Our love is as good as nimbostratus clouds
Let us fly like travellers
I am a singer plus poet travellers
Explorers are also travellers
Our love dont need intruders but we travellers
Travellers The Singer plus poet love you
I will make myself a man because of you
My sweetheart I respect you!
My sweetheart I love you!
Shiba Phumlani Vimbelasizwe (Travellers: The - Poet)
MY SWEETHEART PART 2!
Stroll through the Illest Empire
So much heat feeling like we’re living in the fire
But we’re living under fire
Tell me how many shots must it take before my loved ones are crying at my own wake
Its time for a break from sad eyes I’ve seen grown men cry
It hurts to tell a loved one good-bye
It’s the same reason why they died
Hearts just too full of pride
Mothers praying their young’n wont be a victim of a homicide
Too many drive-bys blood shed for a block you really can’t call mine
Wishing we could turn back time
High off of nickels’ and dimes
Making moves to boost your grind looking for hope
But the hustle got us in a head choke
Don’t blame me for acting crazy cause this how the streets made me and you
To watch our back and throw bows and cuss
Cause you got to be tough when times are rough
I know your asking when will enough be enough
And truth is I don’t know but this is how it goes down
But if I make it out will you smile for me now
So many families struggling with poverty
I don’t judge cause that use to be me
Watching mom come home late
Barley any food on our plate
So young and life we already hate
Praying God bring us something great
My clothes were cheap imitates and kids called you on them for being fake
Knowing mom bust her ass to provide
But all your knock offs you begin to hide
Ashamed of what you own
I know how you feel I been there too
I see mothers walking there kids to school
And the walk is far when you cant afford a car
Mom hoping one day you’ll be a star
I know about being next to poor
Your local neighborhood liquor market is your grocery store
Wishing you didn’t have to go through that living off of food stamps
Cube the neighborhood is a trap but we’ll all be free
So smile for you and me
Even 2pac said smile for me
This isn’t how its always going to be unless you let it be
In our different way we’re all a G
Cause we’re trying to make it straight legit
Whatever your hustle never quit but don’t lose yourself in it
Cause you still got a long ways to go
Still got a long time to grow
Use what you know to get by or you wont survive
Remember to always keep your dreams alive
Whatever it is just do it and never try
The limit is the sky so keep your heads held high
And when you come to a hard road just always know nothing can keep you down
You’ll be able to come back around
So give yourself a chance
And I’ll smile for you now
JUNE ‘06
B.K.M.jr
Dragon likes secrets but can’t keep them… UH UH! No way!
But he’s also, often confused by what he sees every single day.
Now he got interested in Area 51, and wanted a meet and greet…
Of aliens, so when he disappeared we sought him in the streets.
We checked out Hwy 51, mile marker 51, and the 51 mph speed limit sign.
I know it’s weird, but for us 51 mph is perfect, for giving speeding fines.
We checked with the Sheriff of Crazyland cause of the history they’ve had.
We were finally, really worried, and about to list him in a lost and found ad.
He told us of visiting with an alien, earlier, on a silver motorcycle, here about.
Silver jumpsuit, helmet, boots, and silver all the rest… so we put an APB out!
I was getting more than worried… As panicked, I was very quickly becoming!
Next time I’ll listen, when my little widdle Dragon starts his mouth a running!
Suddenly in the front yard, in the sky, came a flash of silver and green light!
And out popped The Green Lantern plus the Silver Surfer, in all their might!
From behind the Silver Surfer, Dragon leaped into my open and inviting arms.
Naturally with us both, landing flat upon the ground… stopping all my alarms.
The Silver Surfer had given Dragon a fun ride, but Dragon had gotten kinda lost!
He’d looked away, and Dragon being curious, had at that moment, wandered off.
Then Dragon was kidnapped by an alien gang, who wanted to sell him to a Zoo!
In Alpha Centauri! But his fire saved him, it became way too hot, when it blew!
Dragon was scared, as he learned not all alien’s are good, as he bowed his head.
Plus flying a space ship isn’t good, when fire blows all around, it has been said!
Thankfully, they’d needed an SOS, which had saved our little sweet Dragon guy.
Then the Silver Surfer & Green Lantern, brought our little one home, now wise!
Of course a naptime was in order, as we tucked him into his soft, safe bed, too.
But he now knew: Alien Super Heroes do exist, and that dreams can come true…
And to never go anywhere without, his family, with him, but we can now say…
For a Hero Dragon and his new friends, it was an Interstellar Great News Day!
Some bad guys learned that: Dragon Heroes are just too hot to handle! No cliché!
And Dragon was good… for the rest of the Day! Thank goodness! And Hooray!
Written 7-29-2016, This one is for my friend Steve….
Many a poet I know a fool
acting like they know-it-all
many a poet I know a tool
acting like "Mr Poet-all"
unknowingly showing me
their knowledge of poetry
has boundaries surrounding
ideas rebounding around
their impounded grounds
only seeing the same repeatedly
nothing new unfortunately
forever under lock and key
belittling anything new they see.
As a poet I'm not especially traditional
more so "special" writing additional
my raw and new to poetry style
unlike those into poetry awhile
so can I now pick the thoughts
of a traditional poet know-it-all
I believe to be caught in restriction walls
appearing to parrot what taught in schools
see if I perceive conviction in their cause
or robotic perspective their memory stores
too Inspect credentials for signs set in stone
content or unambitious toward the unknown
should I see respect or a moody moan
for new styles outside their own zone
Seemingly their priority is to teach all to try to be
writing unoriginally prevent the mind think free
in a strictly stricken view I see crippling you
never trying new or seeking something else to do
you have regulations on how creativity is written
preventing inspiration thus so negatively driven
speculating with unchallenged repetition
as though been tutored to a limit
you're now failing to ascend merited
having starved all but within it.
So please respect my detected inclination at play
but poetry is a creative artform not set in its ways
and those paved paths you pace and wear thin
were once unpaved before their now adored placing
so shouldn't a creative artform progress and not stay there
wouldn't it go on new quests paving unpaved or
invent realise and find in amaze ways new spaces
not be assigned a confined station like railways
instead seek to new roads or train to fly the skies
cus a closed off mind concealed in a cocoon
denies the butterfly wings the room
like a inverted narrow mind blinds clues
let's preserve and branch from the lay of the track
if poetry stays then poetry slacks but if adapts
poetry won't wear weak crumble and crack
recycling the same will only sink in to the black
I don't want to conform to the common or normal
because I see it as a creative short fall.
So why refuse new styles when you could embrace all poetry?
are you a poet or are you a phoney?
i'd just been declared surplus to requirements by my boss
with bloodshot eyes i plodded home completely at a loss
oblivious of my ex-secretary's commiserations
mum's late stage cancer portended impending tribulation
what bruised my heart was my boss' betrayal
his reward for my being unflinchingly loyal
my mind raced to dad's Dane gun, and a well knotted noose, and lethal pills
just one good hot and my sorrows will cease
somehow the thought of my fiancé filled my mind
she was of heaven-so gentle and kind
i'll stay for her. oh such a dear!
i whistled generously, passers by stare
the angelic fiancé turned out a fiendish spouse
she wouldn't cook, she wouldn't work or even clean the house
my income vanished as it came and it was all her effort
she also nagged whenever i offered mum support
but it was her promiscuous lifestyle that often drove me senseless
young, old, rich and poor; she was just so shameless
my limit was reached the day i caught her with my erstwhile boss
homicide was the easier bet but i settled for divorce
to my utmost dismay, the judge added the burden of alimony
to the same unfaithful villain who had wasted my money
worse still outside the courtroom she gave a parting shot
"you were definitely the worst of the lot
even the old judge was much better than you
as was the vicar, the postman and your valet too"
i regained consciousness in the emergency room of a hospital
where i got to learn that my condition had been fatal
somehow, i had consumed some capsules of arsenic
i was just so lucky to have been found by Nick
with tears streaming down my face
i told the doctor all about Grace
for what seemed like ages, he stared blandly at me
then with lips quivering, he said these words to me
“this morning my wife and children were slain by a suicide bomber
i was all set for Israel when you were brought in coma
my duty is to save lives, so i couldn't let you waste yours
life may be mean to us but someone else has it worse
adversities are like batons, you must get them to win a relay race
sorry you just got divorced but therein lies your ace
being alive gives you the chance to get it right again
your ex-wife's loss will be another maiden's gain”
SUGAR, SPICE, SOUL
Oh, yes~ my friends, that is what poet friends are made of!!
Givers, in the main, not takers. You can count on their constancy.
They read you more than once a year. Not…run over your poem
like a speed bump with no feelings!! They even soupmail you, to ask,
“How’s it going, my friend?” And you really should do the same!
If they really are your friends, they do not, like ghost-ships…disappear
into the foggy night! Nor worse, have the rule…
” I only read, who reads me!” This really would limit my world!
Just pretty words and form-acumen, nor cleverness, a poet,do not make.
It takes a true, warm soul. Whether simple or complex the poem, it is still great artistry! It is sugar and spice for the soul!
Find some soul poet friends, you can trust.Not rare, but you may find
some out to harm you. They haven’t the courage to tell you what is wrong.
So they sneak under other poet’s comments to insult you. It’s painful to
find oneself being shredded. But for me, simply confusing.
The ones with fangs work behind the scenes,actively, working to get you removed from the site. Yes, no kidding. So be forewarned! There are poets with backbone who do stop this infantile and malicious behavior.
God bless them! Hugs to such genteel poets.
I have poets alert me to any evil going on. Hugs to them all. Their numbers
are few, but such poets with high integrity!
Such chutzpah, they have and will back you to eternity.
There are excellent poets on site with over fifty years experience writing
poetry.
Then those who just began. Like myself! Be patient with yourself. Learn the
classical forms. It helps control your thoughts gets your message across clearly.
I wish you all sincere, long friendships here and the joy of writing your best
poetry. An acclaimed poet told me, “The number of poems you write is highly
insignificant. The quality of the poem, is far more important.” I
I do miss Connie Wong as many of you still do. She was the poet’s poet!! Unafraid to pen more than four words in a comment. Never a cookie
cutter comment from her. One felt embraced by her. Remember that?
No “drive-by” comments from that angel. Now in heaven.
Wishing you all sugar, spice and soul! Not only in poetry, but in life!
Panagiota Romios
10/7/2022
If I was to take a word, say focus,
Stand it on its head,
And ask with growing sense of dread,
Why my friend did you just now,
Fly upon this particular
Moment’s verbal locus?
Torture I might answer, like waterboarding,
Might explain a thing or two.
Indeed the stakes are dear,
And the coast far from clear-
For foggy shores clarity prevents,
The utter contingency of cluttered events.
Focus is the mine shaft of the mind,
Magnifying that which falls
Into categories of significance:
Signs of a trance, a mental dance,
By which thinking signifies
The magnificent follies
Of a man upside down
In a world of lies.
No subtlety there,
Poet banging hair chest bare,
The mental frequency hertz,
Screeching, scratching, snatching,
Lose bits of hurt out of the air.
The mathematics of falling
Made clear by Newton,
His numbers uncovering
What was
Always there:
A god already in free fall,
The Fall, the autumn of our birth,
The forsaken garden,
Two dummies hand in hand,
An undulating snake,
A world of entanglement,
All fleeing into a desert dream.
For what? To where? And why?
The three double jews of the trinity
Which Law forbade no One to ask,
Yet no body did
Put focus to task.
She reappears all the time.
The rabbit hole stood for what was to come,
The worms therein what was done.
The trip down was fun,
Getting out gave more than the sum.
The prism diffracted the invisible
Beams of light,
An assortment of possibilities followed,
The world explained, the mind contained,
A boundless infinite void of space,
Surrounding us,
Disgracing us,
For we had to face,
The borders of our place.
Trapped inside
We looked the other way,
Attic floors, token doors,
A distilled virtue, forgeries for another day.
The sky was not the limit, we were.
The atoms of the mind mere reflections
Of our best guessing games.
There though, lay our best hope.
After the bloodshed
She reappeared again.
But only after.
Choices like Templars into the night,
Distracted the courtesies of a harmonious cosmos,
God had blood and died,
Men embraced humiliation and cried,
Change, the abomination of free will,
Altered the fabric of time.
Focus put by for a rainy day.
Distraction, the play thing
Of an unruly monster lurking in the shadows of thought,
Vomiting a pile of disassociations.
My spirit is locked in a conversation with my soul and my heart is crying out for more, you have stretched me to the limit just to see if I am fit, but I kept going to expose my stamina and my internal strengths . You have defamed my character with an age-old propaganda calling me crazy and mad and this accusation really makes me feel sad.
You have gone above and beyond to steal the joy out of my hand and when you are done you gathered with your friends and cronies to have a celebrative party, mocking my human dignity; and gossiping about me. You kneel in front of the cross every Sunday with silent words dripping from your lips.
I can sense the hypocrisy around you, and witness the devil blowing its breath all over you and when you speak the earth groans at the bitter words coming from your trembling lips.
You have been doing this for years, defying the rules, crossing border, hacking my phone and spreading my information all over the town. Your objectives are not clear and you are sending negative energy everywhere. I want to tell you the truth, take your baggage and get off my name or you are going to go insane.
They will come after you and shake you with all that they have got, and when they are done with you, they will leave you walking without shoe.
The conscripts are on a special assignment and plan to march you up to heaven; they will knead you out on the ground and fire shots in the air and leave you lying there cold and bare .
You work for you and your group but I work for the entire troop in the universe it is positioned at the four corners of the sea where the earth joins it to me and he.
I have been waiting here for a while watching you insulting my indigenous pride, filling the air with smoke, canceling hundreds of flights and sending out notices about unruly passengers.
You are the unruly brat and you have been stealing all that we have got, and when it’s time for us to have some fun your are running around with threats and gun oh what hypocrisy
My Adrenalin is boiling and my spirit is swelling and the sun is burning at a hundred and ten degree, there is a part of me that you have not seen but I will show you when you safely cross the sea, when the temperature cools and my dust is settled destiny will take you on an unforgettable ride.
“Within”
Shadow dreams
down silent roads
never taken
less than travelled,
the winter breeze
of the world within,
pulls out the hidden
message planted,
within
the quickening
attempts slow
anchoring,
the call persistent,
beckons, like the music
drumming softly,
lulling, calming
the rocking boat
in the heartbeat
rhythm of a contract
seeking solace
heard from the seat
of forgotten being,
a ghost banging
on the doors
of empty vessel,
conversations holy
for the supping
You open ;
the unseen
stands holding out
its hand at the
door of your
conscience,
you are
escaping back to
what is real
within,
the awakening ;
the quickening
attempts slow
anchoring
the call
hauntingly familiar
beckons you forward
away from the
time confining
sands of your shores
rippling cool
all those times
all those stories
you loved
over your bare feet
now walking
across seas
annointed
by water
the call,
like a dream
hauntingly familiar
beckons you
forward
like the sound
of your beautiful
Ocean
True Love
is calling
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
ljb-llb-gvlm
ljb-klb-mlb
jk-ak-iob-tob
“Non-Eternal”/Max Richter
https://youtu.be/9zkQX2FrRLM
“In the morning of life,
before its wearisome journey,
The youthful soul doth expand,
in the simple luxury of being;
It hath not contracted its wishes,
nor set a limit on its hopes;
The wing of fancy is unclipped,
and sin hath not seared the feelings:
Each feature is stamped with immortality,
for all its desires are infinite,
And it seeketh an ocean of happiness,
to fill the deep hollow within.”
“Know that we have met before
and that we will meet again.
I will find my way to you
in the next life,
and every life after that.”
“The Soul selects her own Society -
Then - shuts the Door -
To her divine Majority -
Present no more - ”
rev 3:20 KJV
The Mother-Child Soul Contract -
https://www.ascendedpresence.com/blog/mother-healing
https://energyboutiquehome.wordpress.com/2019/05/11/the-mother-wound/
https://in.toluna.com/opinions/3421285/How-Souls-Choose-Their-Parents-and-Families-An-amazing-and