Long Marie Poems
Long Marie Poems. Below are the most popular long Marie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Marie poems by poem length and keyword.
Happy Birthday, Marie!
Marie Mukele
Marie's Special Day!
By Michelle Morris
27/10/2023
It's Marie's Special Day!
It's her blessed Birthday
Time to Celebrate
My Mother from the Creator
God is all around you
He's sending Angels to hug you too
For you're the bestest Mother
Any daughter could wish for, truly
Selfless, loving and kind
A beautiful Soul indeed
May God bless you every day
As you've blessed our whole family
Happy Birthday!
© Michelle Morris, 2023
Happy Birthday, Marie
Marie Mukele
Max Buhle Afrika Thank you for sharing this lovely, inspiring birthday message. Mom's are special.
Message to her mom, Marie, from Max. @max.afrika.5
@marie.mukele
Her aunt is tagged in the post:
@nicole.moyla
"Happy birthday to the most beautiful selfless, loving and kindest mother, mentor, woman of God.May our Heavenly Father always bless and keep you mommy, we thank God for you love you so much proud to be called your daughter!Have a blessed one!"
She lay on the bed
Screaming
The pain was expressed in the pitch of her voice
Nurses were hovering over her monitoring her condition
Her husband was banished into the corridor
He paced up and down as if attempting to form a trench in the marble
Her screams subsided for a brief moment
Then escalated, echoing through the hospital
He couldn’t handle it any longer
And burst into the room
Only to be ushered out again
He had noticed blood on the bed
For the first time, he felt helpless
His wife’s screams were like pins piercing his skin
He continued his pacing up and down
A doctor came to the door
Briefly stopped to check his bleeper
Before entering the room
Moments later the doctor came out
With blooded gloves
“ Your wife will be ok,” the doctor said
“ By the way Mr. Aims, congratulations, you have a baby boy.”
He raced in overwhelmed by the tears of joy.
* "HARVEST OF HAPPINESS" Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S. Contest*
Born in the pre-Dawn, before the life of the Sunrise
Before the LIGHT, touched my newborn, HEART
A Tear was Born, to be with me, until my Demise
Before the Light touched my Heart, Satan : had torn it apart
The Sunrise melting the Thirsty Morning Dew : If I only Knew
What is to Come? Abuse- until my teens : Hatred, until my thirties
A “ LOVE “ non-Existent : With all My Heart and Soul I SAID “ I DO “
I Shall Honor My VOW : For the Eons of Forever; I will ALWAYS LOVE YOU
I have seen the Shadow of Satan : Yet I sing GLORY to my LORD
When YOU Truly Walk , with the Spirit of : “ GOD “ You can not be bored
I Live in this Life, Old and Lonely Holding hands with LENORE, My WIFE
A Fond Good-bye to my POETRY Family for “ I AM BORED WITH LIFE
Inspired by the Contest : “ I Am Bored With “ Sponsored by “ Poetess
Extraordinaire : The “ SweetHeart “ of POETRYSOUP ( and Me )
Linda-Marie
1st Place
HGarvey Daniel Esquire
Dedicated To My Dearest MOST ONLY BELOVED " L E N O R E "
Enchanted Norse the dark place of dwarves trickery leaving graveyard dark from gargano graves formed in to spear heads making witch ornaments with light bulbs filled with forbidden black sand smuggled from Maui candle wax to see if asiL will appear wearing feathers of ash smudging walls wailing clawing talisman voodoo charms the hidden agenda a family of fathers who fake their deaths to become the devil hiding in basements toying with goodness heaven closed the doors leaving Lisa lingering holding Mary Gargano hand weeping the agony watching evil plotted her song of sadness illuminates her feet covered in graveyard dirt a pet cemetery for humans unleashed the trickery lies in faking of death to impersonate the deceased identity fraud the covering of arson murder of 9 persons the twisted surges of negative energies graveyard dirt used in ritual sacrifices shuttering coven of asiL Marie Gargano wrath unfolds the pagen pilgrimage Norse meeting trolls dwarves meeting at memorial gardens entrance
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She rocks like Tina
She rolls like Donna
She entertains like Diana
She cures like Maria
She paints like Edmonia
She kicks like Mia
She runs like Wilma
She throws like Lisa
She boxes like Laila
She dances like Anna
She skates like Surya
She invents like Patricia
She revolts like Angela
She influences like Condoleezza
She paints like Edmonia
She smiles like Mona Lisa
She loves like a mother
She protects like a tiger
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like momma.
Dear readers, you can add more
A natural woman is never poor
Please, beloved friends, be kind
To come up with more in your mind
She tumbles like Simone
She philosophizes like Simone
She quilts like Betsy
She laughs like Whoopi
She jokes like Leslie
She sings like Marie
She speed skates like Maame
She flies like Mae
She exercises like Gabby
She educates like Mary
She fights like Dorothy
She explores like Stephanie
She sounds like Winnie
She creates like Margaret
She dares like Harriet
She runs like Marion
She entertains like Josephine
She legislates like Maxine
She sows like Catherine
She teaches like Gwendolyn
She lifts like Ernestine
She acts like Diahann
She reports like Diane
She speaks like Michelle
She is serious like Michelle
She is strong like Althea
She is talented like Augusta
She is defiant like Cicely
She is brave like Shirley
She is normal like Marilyn
She is fearless like Maxine
She is relaxed like Rosa
She is inquisitive like Barbara
She challenges like Phyllis
She swings like Chris
She plays like Alice
She is talented like Venus
She is pretty like a flower
And she is like our mother.
A natural woman is not perfect
She deserves honor and respect
She needs love everyday
From trouble, she never runs away
Please add more to this poem
And do not curse or blaspheme
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like our mama.
Copyright © August 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Helen Marie was a petulant clown
Pettish, prickly, persnickety all around
She got upset at every perceived double cross
She was especially upset with her brother Ross
She is cantankerous and crotchety her mother said.
Because of her curmudgeonly ways, she needs to go to bed.
But Helen did not agree, and was ready to flare up
Her abnormally loud temper scared her dad and pup.
How can we deal with this? He asked her mother.
Let me have at it, she told Dad and Ross, the brother.
She had grown up with six sisters, so this was not new.
As the oldest of seven females, she knew what to do.
She told Helen all the great things she had going for her.
She gave her optimism, and a hope that was pure.
She assured her things would be better soon.
Then she tucked in Helen by the light of the moon.
on a warm summer night the night sky calls
peacefully, and I find a sky painted by God himself
swirls and shades of blue, mauve, purple with clouds floating
a full moon is hiding behind the clouds peeks
through fluffy drifting cloud heavy with rain coming by morn'
oh, the stars only once in a while can sparkle and shine
the beautiful scene above is reflected on the lake
soft, vast and beautiful like a mirror image
earth, water and sky meet and mingle
a silhouette of a sail boat on the lake
a tree etched in the serene scene divine
sublime, still, is this painting created by God
_______________________
February 24, 2022
Poetry/Verse/The Night Sky
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1433-360-24
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, The Night Sky
sponsor, Anna Marie Kaianah, Judged 04/30/2022
Second Place
Momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday
during month of May
can be traced back
to ancient Greeks and Romans
devotional festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday.”
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
(a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
childbearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's imbolden
greeting card companies
such as Hallmark generated a market
(money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed
companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea
of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite
of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed,
fêted, lionized, revered re:
formed unsanitary
squalid living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where
greater longevity doth hum
bull all because, she sought to regale mum
(mine) deceased after rigor mortis
immediately thereafter her sole son
found himself saddened severely glum,
and uncomfortably numb.
Marie
When I leave this place, remember me.
I never accomplished anything,
But I kept on writing my poetry.
I wrote it just for you and all for me…
Sitting in a bar, she drinks whiskey and gin.
I don’t drink myself, but she can do her thing.
As I watch her dance, I sit here and think,
She sure is beautiful; I am so glad she is my perfect, beauty Queen.
She has always been there since the days of no cash
And when I have nothing to say, she can always make me laugh.
My sweet Marie, my pretty thing;
My sweet Marie can always make my heart sing.
In my pickup truck, she picks me up.
We have got a show to see tonight, that we sure do love.
There’s a man on stage,
Talking about the olden days.
Marie gives me a hug and we reminisce.
Those memories, they still remain;
She can take me back to the beginning with just a single kiss.
We met in a bar in a rundown part of town;
We made some money and I own that bar now.
‘It’s a bad investment’; that’s what they all said,
But I smile at them all and say “You’re a long time dead.”
I’ve only got one life to live
And I have found Marie, my pretty thing;
So you can all worry about the money,
I’ve got all that I need…
My sweet Marie.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
I have a little treasure trove where I keep special things.
Today I thought I'd take it out, search through my memories.
Inside were pictures, souvenirs and things almost forgot,
And then among some special notes, a paper I knew not.
It seemed at first a poem that was started long ago.
Written just for me, in secret by my beau.
He must have written hurriedly, and stuck it in my hand,
To tell me I was special, he thought that I was grand.
I've kept that note, his song of love, for lo these many years;
And as I read it through again, it still brings me to tears;
For this song was like his love, he said it had no end,
Till I became his wife and so a new song could begin.
Judy Ball
For Treasure Trove Contest by Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of PS