Long Merely Poems
Long Merely Poems. Below are the most popular long Merely by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Merely poems by poem length and keyword.
Watching it spin on an axis of shame
Collecting my thoughts in the cool summer rain
Whispering now cause I just can't complain
Well, it's the least I can do
Silvertone speakers that crackle with age
Finding the book but misplacing the page
Don't question why it is all of the rage
Merely just one point of view
Washing the sheets as the pillowcase cries
Shouting tomorrow, an early surprise
Gathering matchsticks, a sweet compromise
Turning my face to the wind
Cutting a rug even though I can't dance
Betting on four, might as well take a chance
Two could be better when thinking romance
Maybe I'll do it again
This might seem crazy, the phrases I write
Nothing too loose but some lines very tight
Not making sense in this poem tonight
All of the verses above
Here is the reason I wrote this today
Insane concoctions now put on display
Just blame my heart it has something to say
I think I have fallen in love
The stones slipped through the great fingertips of God
Each ligure staked its existence on the four corners of the universe
The quadrivial region began to spin and pull into a sphere
And pathways revealed their footholds
The fourth ligure bravely landed in the midst of history
So that one day the future settlement of the second
Would be moved by the last—by the past
Suffering much it stayed
Manifesting in incandescent words
Thrusting evanescence upon the weak
Selfless, it's sorrow would move the merriest
Would move the unmovable
The third lies in the profound valley of mystical guardians
Star-recruited, they are the very light above the canvas of gray
They embrace the stone—are inspired by the stone
The very reflection of their creator was evident
Upon their unremitting glimmers
Unafraid to stare the others down
Motivated and construed by the glower of death
Eyes move fixedly beyond the simple vast
The second ligure rested upon the shoulders of invisible martyrs
The hopeful power it planted on the sufferers was unbelievable
For spectators used their disbelief to cover their ever-placed envy
They never were part of the battle—they merely watched
Always seeing truth
But they never quite absorbed
Like a rock hitting the water
The inevitable fate was to fly and sink
The first of the ligures settled in the very reservoir of Satan himself
Even the very heart of the devil is marked
Though rebellion embarked
The cold stone landed upon his naked bosom
He despaired not to the pericopal truth the gods had bestowed upon him
He merely despised it
But wished not to lose it
For such a stone to fall upon that dark corner—he felt pride for the gracious wound
In truth, there are twelve ligures of stone
And four were dispersed, dropped into the universe
The last eight the great Eternal wears upon his breastplate
And only He can re-move these ligures
-July 20, 2013-
-For Shadow Himilton's Any Subject Contest-
-Thanks for the inspiration-
(enjoy the puns)
I happen to be a busy bee
always racing with time
since time how it flies for busy bees
Ah wish I could just lasso it
like a cowboy does his horse
and thereby bring it to a standstill!
And if I don't waste this valuable Time
I think I could buy me some extra time
For time is money it's said
Ah wish I could just catch it
in a nook or a noose
as it flies by at will.
For at this rate the clock is ticking by
like some never exploding time-bomb
while I'm forever running out of time
so I wonder then how still
others just take their time
or be killing time coz they've time to kill!
For I can't be killing this precious time
I don't have any spare time on my hands
And it is but challenging to make a chum
out of that swinging pendulum
Time is racing, it's outpacing
For me it seems time has never stood still.
Thus I'll merely have to resign to the fact
that I could never ever tie down mr. Time
for time and tide have waited for none
It's never going to cease, that monotonous chime
even when ceases to pen, a poet's quill
If the battery in thy clock stops
other clocks would be working timely still
So if you lag behind and don't make it in time
you can be sure there are others who will.
So I better let my time-old
venerable grandfather clock
go on with its carefree
dutiful but devil-may-care tick tock
Yah, let the time do the talk
and still tell it it's simply brill!
What can I say to ease your sorrow? In a lifetime of words I’ve spoken…how do I find the right ones…
to ease a heart that’s broken?
When I see that you are hurting…that you’re struggling
know this to be true…
Because I know you…admire you…love you…
my heart is breaking too.
I am struggling with how to act…knowing I can’t make your pain go away.
I’m struggling knowing what to do….finding the right words to say.
I know the right words at the right time
might soothe your heart and brighten your day.
While the right words at the wrong time
will fall like the first snow of winter and quickly melt away.
I am also struggling because it’s often hard to determine…often hard to see
exactly when the right time is…exactly what the right words might be.
With that in mind…I offer these words today…it’s all that I can do…
Read them now if you are ready…
or wait till the time is right for you.
Know that just like other setbacks you have faced
you will emerge from this one…it’s true!
for scars are merely a part of life…and can be beautiful too.
Know that as sad as you are there will come a time…
only you know where…or when…
you will hurt a little less…
smile a little more
and find your happiness again.
Know that as long as I am living …through your sunshines and your rains
I will rejoice in all your joys…I will share in all your pains.
And finally, no matter what happens to you in life…
let this in your heart be known…
as long as I am living…
you will never be alone.
Contrition or sorrow for sin, is a hatred of sin and a true grief of the soul for having offended God, with a firm purpose of sinning no more
The sorrow we should have for our sins should be interior, supernatural, universal and sovereign
When I say that our sorrow should be interior, I mean that it should be from the heart and not merely from the lips
When I say that our sorrow should be supernatural, I mean that it should be prompted by the grace of God and excited by motives which spring from the faith and by merely natural motives
When I say that our sorrow should be universal, I mean that we should be sorry for our mortal sin without exception
When I say that our sorrow should be sovereign, I mean that we should grieve more for having offended God than for any other evil that can befall us
We should be sorry for our sins, because sin is the greatest of evils and an offense against God our Creator, Preserver and Redeemer and because it shuts us out of heaven and condemns us to the eternal pains of hell
There are 2 kinds of contrition: perfect contrition and imperfect contrition
Perfect contrition is that which fills us with sorrow and hatred for our sin, because it offends God, who is infinitely good in Himself and worthy of all love
Imperfect Contrition is that by which we what offends God because we lose heaven and deserve hell or because sin is so hateful in itself
Imperfect contrition is sufficient for a worthy confession but we should endeavor to have perfect contrition
By a firm purpose of sinning no more mean a fixed resolve not only to avoid all mortal sin, but also its near occasions
By the near occasion of sin I mean all the persons, places and things that may lead us into sin
Heathens at the gate, Heathens at the gate,
We must act lest it be too late,
Shut all doors, man the towers,
We haven’t days but merely hours.
Here they come the brooding masses,
Form a line so not one passes,
Spare no thought of offering help,
Who really cares if they all yelp.
They will whimper, beg and plead,
Yet their goal is fueled by greed,
It’s our lifestyle they all want
So their suffering they flaunt.
We must stop them come what may,
Act with force or rue the day
These illegals soiled our land;
Draw a line and make a stand.
Unite as one behind my lead,
Purge all feelings, act with speed,
Our country’s full we need no more
And yet they come in by the score.
But should we fail remember this,
Those who caused such huge abyss
And when you vote do not forget,
I’m the one that voiced the threat.
In the silence, my heart breathes light
Unassuming, all fears aside,
Hesitant and alive, knowing all is right
My heart breathes and I decide…
Yesterday is gone, and I’m moving on
In the silence, my heart breathes light
Some might think I’m merely withdrawn,
But I know the secret of love so right
In the silence, my heart breathes light
And I discover the song of my soul
Beyond the words, the stories, all is right
It is God’s love who will make me whole
Yesterday is gone, and I’m moving on
In the silence, my heart breathes light
While I don’t have the words, I see the dawn
Who knows the joy of God’s love, so very right
It is God who reveals the story who will heal
The silence, though so still, is His will
And I feel, beyond the worst – a heart so still
A heart who loves and believes, He will fulfill
In the silence, my heart breathes light
Beyond the story, this song is so right
Because I love Him and know His insight
Will show the whole world, He will invite…
The heart to believe, to always love
With a joy and hope – faith from above
In the silence, my heart breathes light
Beyond this story, this love feels so right!
Time eats away at us like termites
Carpenter ants burrowing tunnels
Bite by bite
Nibble by nibble
We weather as a wooden barn
exposed to the elements
The paint begins to bubble
peel and flake
Rain soaks in and we rot
rendering us fragile regardless
of how much one was celebrated
cameras constantly flashing
like a lightning storm
when they walked down the street
wearing a suit of smooth, supple skin
Loved now only by the few sincere
in their affections
who care for their soul and not
merely the flesh that contains it
In fifty years
a heartbeat in history
like old films they are forgotten
No longer part of culture’s
collective consciousness
though occasionally someone
may ponder, “Whatever happened to him?”
Dust like the rest of us
in the end
When the time comes for the earth to swallow me,
do not cover me with just old garments,
but lay upon me a quilt woven from poems,
from the bleeding verses that flowed through my veins,
stitched from the letters that were both witness and burden.
Let not a single word remain.
Let no one ever read them,
let no one knock on my grave,
asking, We found the one with the spoken name,
but it wasn't him—where should we search now?
Burn those pages to ashes.
Scatter them in the wind of forgetfulness,
just as the man who wrote them
was never anything more than a shadow.
For words are merely echoes of a dream
that never caught the light,
and I, the dreamer who wished to be,
was nothing but an echo
in the silent ocean of the unknown universe,
a wave lost in the sea of forgotten time.
Let only silence be my epitaph,
for in its stillness I will live on,
in the memory of those who heard,
not just listened.
And thus, I go to bury myself in the heavens,
to be a cloud that rains memories,
a dream wandering in the eternal sleep
of a world without remembrance.
"I had to travel suddenly.
I'm Indonesia-bound.
My cousin needs a kidney
And that's just where one was found.
I left the States so suddenly
I didn't bring much cash,
So can you send some money soon?
I know this may sound brash...
But all I need's 2,000 bucks -
Okay, 800 more.
It isn't really very much
Because of what it's for."
This message went to everyone
My email's ever reached.
I guess you've figured out by now
That my account was breached.
I've heard from friends from years ago
To check to see, in fact,
If this were true or merely
The result of being hacked.
I'm grateful, yes, for their concern
But hope, with fingers crossed,
That no one fell for this and thus,
No money has been lost.
The folks who know me best, of course,
Knew right off it was fake
For it was written with a huge
Grammatical mistake!