Long Lite Poems
Long Lite Poems. Below are the most popular long Lite by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lite poems by poem length and keyword.
When the soles of my feet,
and the palms of my hands turn red and
scorched, I go on.
When my face is hot from the heat, I go on.
My eyes shed tears and my nose turns cold, I go on.
When there's so much to fear and life seems not here,
I go on.
The friends you lose one by one and the graves you
walk on count so many, I go on
When there's nothing to ask or face, I go on.
I go on because I am the dreams of those gone by.
I go on for the Sun lite sky.
I go on for the hope of the few and the day.
I go on for future care.
I go on for my darling dear.
And, so I go on.
Non-bachelor (batch chiller)
"FAKE" horror thriller
available Netflix starring
ghost of Phyllis Diller
stand up comedienne killer
brought down haunted house
witch sea hunt accompanied
theme song referencing Argonaut tiller
Greenwich Village location Barney Miller
lite precinct brewed fare of corpse
unearthed dead comedy duo Meara and Stiller
with surreal stalking candy corn canes
as bon appétit gnashing
gobbledygook filler.
Ice scream aghast with
blood curdling shriek,
the dearth of satisfactory
FIOS shows bleak
readying jump into polluted creek
thus, I bury alive yours truly
except his sharp pointed beak
exhuming him after rotted
flesh doth reek
perfectly tricked out
for Halloween treat
masks long haired
pencil necked geek
October thirty first when freak
alias Gadshill gadabout
poetaster doth sneak
feigning antonym anthem of meek
oh my dog, I lyft hind
uber leg to take leak
hoop fully haint nobody dares peak
urinate kidding ma bladder weak.
I long since waved
channel surfing adieu
much prefer silence
meditating under blue
skies peering into
infinite space nary a clue
intellectual conversation many disvalue
perched edge of seat and hunched over
how riveting story doth ensue
ah... time for commercial break
culinary wizard abracadabra
whips up fondue
easy as pie (are squared)
with consistency of glue
methinks Elmer stole patent,
cuz secret formula Hebrew
what with identical hue
as aforementioned adhesive liquid
doubling up to keep igloo
air tight even against
global warming, anyway would Jew...
aye betcha already knew
yes believe Yahweh endowed Semites
like me with high ike kue
of course after dumping
a load (reed) I feel sue
per ream intelligence dumbed down
(mine), especially after using loo
naturally decrease smarts
stings like poisonous
scorpion size of Eee moue,
which aforementioned papa's
poetic poppycock nonissue
saturating plethora home entertainment
most people overvalue
linkedin - shoot all stemming from
"idiot box" I rarely view.
BUTTERFLY Alliteration -
Blue, black, purple, orange, yellow
Why aren't there any butterflies flying by anymore
Powdery are their wings they flutter silkiest dust little like butter
why aren't there any butterflies waving by anymore
Don’t don’t come past my view points
Why aren't there any boring, busy butterflies flying by anymore
They lite on flowers after dew points
brutal, bad, bald,
bitter, brave, brilliant, bright
Why aren't there any beautiful, butterflies flying by anymore
Why aren't there any bumpy, bouncy big, black butterflies
come by and suck the nectar out our flowers, any more
Beautiful flown, flies the bubbly, broken butterflies whom flight seems not to fly by anymore
8/8/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
With Bated Breath--
While I stand here on the realm of enlightenment,
Investing in the twilight lite placement in times;
Together my body and spirit separates,
Host has hurried and left its place, now lifted and faceless…
Breath has flown, gone on…
Arise, arise my soul dough flies flows towards heaven…
Tenderly submitting to the almighty Creator
Each and every embrace
Delivers He Himself God’s self
Beholding His essence, caressing ever-present
Reaches towards heavens skies, golden hills and valleys
Everlasting premise glory endowed greatness
All power created from my Father
Total resources open create O’ God mine energy spirit
Hold inside me rejuvenated arise in me blow your breath of life…
8/22/19
Placed #2 in Contest
For Pick A Title, Vol 8 - Acrostic - Poetry Contest
5. With Bated Breath
Acrostic poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
O, do you remember how I once was thin?
I’ve been there before, and I’ll be there again.
But if I chose a fave, food would probably win;
I’m in sort of a deep hole before I begin…
Because barbecue’d meats are a man’s true delight,
And some smoked mac-n-cheese complements all things, right?
And I tend to eschew if the label says, “Lite”,
But I neither am one to back down from a fight.
I’m not one to diet, but I don’t mean to scoff,
so instead I’ve decided to walk my *ss off.
Yes, I’m hiking right ‘round the bend, living the dream,
eating ripe wild persimmons with sugar and cream.
It was such a marvelous ship so big and well lite at night
Off on another wonderful trip the atmosphere being so light
And they danced all night long Auld Lang Syne being a big hit
But then something went wrong causing many to say oh #%$@
This giant ship knocked onto it's side by a very large freak wave
Causing everything aboard to slide as the situation became grave
Many people died almost right away the ship being so tossed
And those who lived through that day were disoriented and lost
But a small group would form and they soon figured out their way
But this journey would not be the norm not just your ordinary day
And then another group came into sight but this group did not agree
Even though they tried to show them right with such a desperate plea
So they had to let them go and continue in what they knew as right
Soon seeing a sky so blue while the others never again came into sight
We're all adrift out at sea for really you have so very little control
But if there is one thing you must see it's the importance of your soul
I can't imagine what it must be like,
With no excuse to retire,
Never seeing a time for the boss to take a hike.
I can't imagine what it must be like,
Seeing no reason to stoke the fire,
No wish to see the grandchild on a bike.
I can't imagine what it must be like,
Forever changing a tyre,
With nothing new to like.
I can't imagine what it must be like,
Working down to the wire,
Never free to fish for a pike with mike.
I can't imagine what it must be like,
Always stuck in the mire,
Never looking past the work site.
Yet I can imagine myself away from the work I like,
Before I tire,
And can no longer hike.
Yet I can imagine doing what I like when I like,
When I retire,
Free to choose which fire I might lite.
Lord the sun lite blinds me, my eyes blinds my eyes
It's no surprise Lord it blinds me, and I can't see
Lord the sun lite blinds me, my eyes blinds my eyes
It's no surprise Lord it blinds my eyes
Lord, Lord, Lord oh heavenly one
Father Lord my God
How far
Lord the sun lite blinds me, my eyes blinds my eyes
It's no surprise Lord it blinds me, and I can't see
Lord the sun lite blinds me, my eyes blinds my eyes
It's no surprise Lord it blinds my eyes
Lord God please be my covering so that I may see now
It's no surprise to me God that the Son binds me
God open my eyes to see
4/27/15
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. & JaMaz Semaj ©2015
FROM ANTHOLOGY “ UNCKLE Ja'MaZ”
BREAKING NEWS
We have breaking news right here on the soup!
You can travel back in time if you write about poop.
Back to sixth grade is where we’ll get sent.
There is a time machine waiting that’ll send back our scent.
We can giggle at farts that we rip in the hall.
Or maybe grease one out when we pick up a ball.
Back to sixth grade? Where do I sign?
That would be better than reading poems that whine all the time.
From the seat of our bikes, we’d pass gas all around.
A smellier bunch would never be found.
Just don’t lite a match, it could blow down your door.
We all could read comics about Iron Man and Thor.
For a seat back in time, a stinker I’ve got.
If it’s all about poop, then I’ll give it a shot.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this rhyme I’ve sent forth.
It’s a fart just for you, sent down from the North.
By early '71, or was it late '70?
I had fallen in love, or so I thought,
For the very last time.
From the summer of '69 until then,
Many short romances died on the vine.
Some of them came and were very pleasing
For a little while. But I must confess that
Some ended with questions at the end of
The trial; Questions of the type to which
There were no answers and from which one
Was forced to move on.
To the young and yet untested: To the beginner
With love not yet invested; I advise that you
Wait and not hurry love. Let love find you and
Lite gently upon your shoulders like a dove.
Duly noted that neither of you is hidden from view. I found my dream girl sitting in the pew.
To the restless and immature, too hasty to
Understand, be advised that just ahead lies
a relationship filled with much sorrow and
quicksand.
Romance is much too beautiful to be
Mared with sorrows. So, don't hurry.