Long Maturity Poems
Long Maturity Poems. Below are the most popular long Maturity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Maturity poems by poem length and keyword.
Half past December the dim light comes
Transfers gray images reflected on the lake
From clouds crowding the sky about to cry
Huddled near by are the strange mountains
Holding scenery together just close by
Calm facilitates a kaleidoscopic morning rite
Maneuvers with blue birds dipping down to take a drink
Makes ripples in the time line they deserve
Thirst works with maturity in harmony with nature
The common observer takes it all in at once
They come to the conclusion that all is well
There is more to be perceived if given more time
To a paradox generated to facilitate the calm
There is no sin in simply breathing
Midst nostalgic bliss yon reminiscence fervor
my mind does savor young love-thrills from heart's abyss
as throw-back endeavor re-creates love story I can't miss...
though we must choose academic aegis over infatuation's favor.
You and I forged our partnership with promises of "forever-we-are-one" creed
and constant letters of endearment midst caring deed brightened our relationship
yet, our parents' lead and family's breed prevailed along their wise workmanship...
so we yielded to their stewardship, assured of "let's wait for right time indeed."
Our separation with cooling-off strain was inevitable
since struggles so undeniable burst along agonizing pain
yet goals of attainable stature stood upon priorities' terrain...
driving us with faith's gain to conquer teen-age feelings fiercely insurmountable.
Now, I am thankful that it was and is best that we have separated ways
as we pursued our individual race toward triumphant crest
each at our own pace, both of us freely soared upward maturity zest...
allowing us to see each other blest; you with your family; me in God's ministerial grace.
She has no friends; the one friend that she had
she threw away for a silly reason.
Her father died, and she became so sad;
she has been four years now in grief’s season!
She denigrates her peers because she thinks
they lack her wisdom and maturity
and thinks that everything about life stinks,
thus oozing angst and insecurity!
She speaks her mind but doesn’t know how mean
she sounds to others or that all her strife
is felt by other teens at seventeen.
She’s soon to face a big change in her life.
Because her loved ones care, she’ll learn to grow.
The creep in her shall soon be letting go!
11/28/2016
Existing with plenty lips and limbs
and of eyes, large enough to house the entire head
drags food in the orphanage, thinking they won’t need it
appetite in need of a lock and the lessons of maturity
every of his receptor is erect and rapacious
hand in front, leg behind, mouth on site, all for a full grasp
one who covets stones because they are mixed with grains
the sneaking of this bee into ten honey combs
to compress different benefits into one phase
abdomen stretches and changes shape
to accommodate the most of more
contentment is pushed through the bowels
no hope for this being as satisfaction reaches the rectum
and the word ‘enough’ a suicide route of his ego.
No longer do I have to work,
though more money would be nice,
I only have to sit here
and to take my own advice.
There’s more to life than money
though it’s now quite hard to see
why still I feel I have to seek
a job that’s paying me.
It’s the habit of a life time
or so I have been told,
and working is the thing you do
until you’re very old.
So does it mean I’m old now,
as the mirror tells me so
or just that I’ve matured at last,
I really do not know.
Maturity, I reckon
I achieved at sweet sixteen,
from then I’ve just been living
to fill in the time between
my teens and my retirement
though I had a bit to do,
it seems I have arrived at last
now working days are through.
Now I must fill a different time
from now until I’m dead,
starting every single day
until I go to bed.
But maybe I’ll get lucky
now my duty has been done
and find I like the freedom
of just sitting on my bum!
Ivor G Davies
If, in my fate, it has already been written
That I shall be an enjoyer of my fifties
Pray,
I hope then
To have, at that time
A healthy state,
Both mentally and physically
Why
By then, it would matter not
If I am not as slim as I was when I was eighteen
It would matter not
If my hair looks not so brushed up or even so black
It would matter not
If quite a few wrinkles have made themselves seen
What would matter
Is whether I have grown in wisdom
Yes, whether I have attained the right maturity
As to forgive all those who hated me
As to give love to those who need it from me
As to share with the rest of the world, my own experience
So that the younger ones may feel inspired
And of course,
Whether I have worked hard and struggled
Towards the making of my dreams
Yes,
Right now, eyes closed,
A snug smile on my face
I see, in my mind, myself at fifty
And I see, a content lady
One most probably still single
For of the falsity of love, I have written enough about
I see, a lady, most probably childless
For in leaving in this world,
A remnant of myself
I had never had the slightest interest
I see a lady, though, who makes it her duty
To give to the world
Every precious gem that she treasures in her
So that each and every child may
Forget, at least, not even wonder about the complexity
And the meaninglessness of life
And do take the time to enjoy their being here!
Why,
At fifty
I shall most probably lose my beauty
My sex appeal
My body's elasticity
But then, I shall care not for these
For I shall be closer and closer still
To see for myself
Truth,
As I have versed so much about while still in my thirties!
A free education for all people in our nation,
This is the country I want and need.
Creating future adults who can think and resource,
And adults who can forge and lead.
All children educated to the best of their ability,
Improving their ability to build.
Every child given the same chance to be creative,
Professional, savvy and skilled.
If everyone in the country waxes equality,
For growth and maturity to learn.
Then industry will thrive with fresh, robust ideas,
Our flame will vigorously burn.
Steadily burning from people wanting to grow,
Not from adults, spoon fed as they grew.
The spoon leads to entitled self-import,
Rather than an efficient business minded world view
The writing's on the wall,
A thorough free education for all.
The laughter of the wind .
The silence of winter.
The punishment of determination.
As she pushed and pushed ! Moaning to get him out, it was the realization of stubbornness being born.
The father in those dark times , dissapeared like snow in spring drowning his shame and sorrow, in dirty skirts and cheap whiskey in dodgy corners of the Jozi city.
Just before he got his head out of the placenta... he had a vision! A prophecy!.
Life was never going to the all "rainbows and unicorns" but sweaty palms and lonely nights.
There was light! At the end of the tunnel , because Pa returned to the Delivery room.
With the realization of who was coming to the world.
An Artist but not your everyday Picasso.
MARTY KING
sometimes i kiss the tip of a rainbow
golden maturity feels so ocean fresh
traces of lavender calms the vibe of overbearing reality
though time continues to be rebellious and uncaring
you provide a blanket of warmth that rehabilitates my sanity
everything slows down
your beautiful smile on my life feels so good
SHENIKA SIMS
sometimes i kiss the tip of a rainbow
knowledge, wisdom, and understanding freshly waters the vines of my personal growth
the sage burning in the air of everchanging times relaxes me to calm cool contentment
though time continues to coldly resist and frigidly obstruct
you provide the throw blanket of warmth that rehabilitates my sanity
everything feels copable
your beautiful heart's seashell rhythm in my right ear feels so good
From fading greens of summer, I did pass
to seek my Autumn season's entryway
and honor life's maturity, en masse-
with brilliant ceremony and display.
A glorious salute to my last stage-
a party planned with colorful attire
to complement my patterns and engage
fine passersby and artists to admire.
My trees will dress in orange, red, or gold,
and they must pick the one that suits them best
to glow and rustle on dark limbs as bold
farewells to close this phase of life, expressed.
My last hurrah- bright shawls to warm the ground.
As bright leaves fall and soon blend with the snow
before white winter's blanket wraps around-
must say goodbye to Autumn there below.