Long Miser Poems
Long Miser Poems. Below are the most popular long Miser by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Miser poems by poem length and keyword.
Where is Peace
World in progress racing fast
Every thing but peace is lost
Nights are bright like day time
No peace of mind though world is rise
Hearts are hopeless, fear in voice
No peace of minds though world is wise
In the noisy world of today
To some extent there is comfort
But peace of mind is very short
In miser world of today
Money is every thing
Corruption is success ring
In this cruel world of today
Atom bomb is devil king
When blasts off ruins every thing
In this dark world of today
Where world is flourishing at high rank
But they should know very soon it will sink
Thoughts are materialistic minds are confused
Every face is haggard and by heart very rigid
Far away from nature
Like a stooge and puppets in theater
World in progress racing fast
Every thing but peace is lost
Can you tell me where is peace?
Except Allah (God) nothing can make us please.
All Rights Reserved
Poetess S. Nadia Azam Shah Bukhari.
By the time you read this
You may think I’m insane
But I have to lay it out
So you can see it clear and plain
My wife, my true love,
Her name is Jane
She is perfect in every way
And just as insane
She has the qualities that
Every man would desire
But to her I am the only one
That she wants to admire
You think J Lo’s figure is somewhat tasty?
And her main feature, to men would be her ass
But my Jane excels and makes J Lo look cheap
Jane’s ass and perky breast, Ooh Lord, they have class
She loves me like a miser loves money
She drips with sexuality, sweeter than honey
Oh this woman of mine almost broke my back
Six times I thought I was going to have a heart attack
So you may say get a life
But this is my tribute to my sexy wife
She is, everything to me
She is the sister of Glen
My good, my best imaginary friend
Prelude Note: The Poem Tesu is based on a folk story of India.
The Tesuwalas* as depicted in the Poem are gradually
diminishing with the passing of time and changing life
styles. It's a tribute to that great warrior and lover,
who sacrificed his life because he had promised. How
and when you would come to know shortly.....
Hope you would find this wonderful Indian traditional
story a thing to remember. With best wishes before the
festival of Dewali (Light) ...Ravindra
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part 1
The festival of the splendid lights
Of Dewali, is not very far off,
The Tesuwalas* would come to wish,
You, your dreams and homes,
Remain illuminated
With happiness and colorful lights. 01
The Tesu* has come,
With its pomp & show,*
We have come to bless you,
“Your dreams may come true”
But please, take out some coins,
From the far-far corner
Of your miser purse,
For the little girls and boys of Tesuwalas*
Who come only once in a year to greet you. 02
The prevailing darkness,*
Would eliminate soon,
And all the blackness
Of the night too,
Would vanish soon,
Just light your lamps,
In this black dark night,
As, only one single lamp
Has the powe,r
To eliminate any darkness,
And you began to feel,
The glimpse of light sublime. 03
Ravindra
Kanpur India 4th Nov. 2012 To continue ….....
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws. Copying this story without the permission of the writer is strictly prohibited and would be subject to legal remedies taken by the writer.
Tesu* - The Name of the hero of this Poem.
Pomp & Show* the earthen pot (Handiya)
With a symbolic light in it and nicely decorated
with a face with big mustache on the earthen pot
is the pomp & show of Tesu.
Tesuwalas* - Hindi word. The young boys
and girls, who carry The decorated
earthen pot with holes and a light
inside on their head and come
Once in a year near Dewali are
called ‘Tesuwalas’
prevailing darkness*- A night without Moon
It took me more than a long journey...
to learn what I have learned in a lifetime,
and thinking it over: it has been so worthwhile;
so love as I love and throw nothing away!
These instincts won't allow anything to be trifling,
giving nothing and expecting returns,
but appreciating whatever is given to anybody
in small or greater amounts;
who's more blessed the giver or the taker...
when you are told answers so misleading?
Money is useless to a miser,
if it is kept in a treasure chest without being given away!
Love seems to have lost that appeal so respectable,
its modern meaning is a word too trite;
it trenches on perfidious hearts, and it is trivial
when treated with unkindness and spite!
So love as I love and throw nothing away;
only those penetrating minds will know why!
Secure love's joys within grasped palms,
don't be misled by irrational ideas...
they provoke anger and invite trouble
for whomever believes in invidious love,
and regardless of how it harms,
its outcome will be imponderable;
and to impose on being loved is as thoughtless
as being irrelevant in any tone!
Love as I love and throw nothing away,
but a heavy heart can find itself
yearning for human sympathy:
when it is denied an inwardly laughter...
for not having appreciated its coming into existence;
and that insignificant life nobody will remember!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Pain is falling. Into your arms; pain is calling. Answer me! Pain says. Pain says jump. Anguish says how high sir. And the sky's the limit. It's right there. Here in your face; can you touch it? You cannot! Says Pain. Fear hides behind its stalker, awaiting wrath. Judgment withstood beside Pain and the verdict is in. GUILTY. Come again? GUILTY YOUR HONOR; sir. Bow down to Pain. Crumble beneath pains' ridicule and fall...Into Pain's arms. Snuggle with you? Pain will coddle you until you forget all of your dreams. Hope floats away. Bye bye hopes and—See you later those dreams.
Pain says never. Again we buckle under the pressure, of Pain. Hate hoards our love, collecting—An emotional miser of goodness sakes. Hate simply takes and hate takes...takes...but you just you wait...We have enough of our own strengths. We mustn't let hatred to take...take...take...
Fall out of love with this Hate...hate...out of love with this hate. Back in love with our fate. Knowing...I got what it takes...takes...I got what it takes...oh goodness my grace...put me back in my place and end this whole chase...whole place of this chase...Pain Pain go far far away. I say pain go away...Way...wait.
I need more than one plate. You all break with this slate. I'm done chalking up crapes.
I'm strong like an owl. And ya'll smell fairly foul. So times come to be towered. And I hoo hoo like an owl. Out of my circle, leave this powwow. I'm all over this now now. And Pain falls to the ground round; and...Hate trips on his towel. They both sit in time out now. Pain is gone now I'm falling—into grips with my calling. Reconnect with my family; and own up to ole' Sammy. Finally doing the damn thing. And this ending is happy. But don't let Pain gain way into your backseat. Life's a journey, don't call you the wrong taxi. Time has come, Pain go head try and get me, cannot catch me. Yes sir, (says Pain) just don't put me back into that taxi. I say that's right look right at me. When you speak talk about me. No more hate, pain is now but a memory. Hopes and dreams, love and family....Pain is falling—But not at me...
-end
8-29-17
HAD YOU HEARD MY HEART BEATS?
The staircase made your high heels sing.
I stood at the entrance of the the hall.
I was listening to my heart beats to ring.
Did you hear my silent voice trying to call?
You were swift on stairs on misty morning
I was keen to observe rhythmic steps on stair.
Sun was off, mystic mist seemed on mourning.
I was wishing you to tun back and stare.
Suddenly blazing Sun peeped in the East.
I was watching your crimson dress in flare.
Sun rays started to evaporate mist.
You were miser even mere a glance to spare.
You vanished in fading mist! Sun in glare.
Did you hear my heart beats to pulsate?
You didn't look at me for once, simply didn't care.
leaving my heart beats only to accelerate.
09/14/18
Edited on 11/ 12 /22
2022 poetry Marathon Mile 20
Contest by Mark Toney
"When it comes to money, you can't win. If you focus on making it, you're materialistic. If you try to but don't make any, you're a loser. If you make a lot and keep it, you're a miser. If you make it and spend it, you're a spendthrift. If you don't care about making it, you're unambitious. If you make a lot and still have it when you die, you're a fool-for trying to take it with you. The only way to really win with money is to hold it loosely-and be generous with it to accomplish things of value." - John C. Maxwell
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Listen to the lessons
Who remind me that I spend,
More than I can earn,
More than I can learn…
Is too much, too much, too much.
Listen to my conscious,
When I reach for the cart,
Shopping – my obsession,
When will it finally stop?
When will I park that cart?
Listen to the lessons
Who remind me that I’m broke,
Spent more than I am making,
Spent more than I can earn,
Spent more – don’t have money to burn!
Listen to my conscious,
When the cash is burning holes…
Deep inside my pocket,
Where they yearn to finally know
How it feels to go into a jar,
Saved from the shopping sprees!
Saved from their enemy, ME!
Listen to those bills, tempting me…
To pay with cash, pay with my debit,
Pay with credit – pay with anything…
That allows me to spend, spend, spend,
Spendthrift I am – spendthrift is who I hope…
To quit being, throughout the coming year!
My new year’s resolution, then…
Is to write X spendthrift,
When I take up my pen, to sign by the x,
Where I’m signing my earnings away,
For the next purchase that I’ve made –
As a NEW X-spendthrift, I hope that I can say…
Together with my money, I will finally stay,
Able to look at the future with savings that I pray…
Will keep me from poverty as I go on my way,
Keep me from the spending that took me astray!
Clutching the purse to her chest and the counting
She grabbed at the invisible hands and doubting
If it hadn't been one thing it would have been another
The greed put out the fire with smother
Greed, the great pacifier
Holding each coin close
Counting and counting over and over
The hiding place ever changing
A dog can never have enough bones to bury
The alcoholic and one glass of sherry
Snatching at fingers and to the comfort of the vault
A ski mask helps one not to be caught
One pacifier deserves another
Turning from the bank with her greed
Draws her purse to her chest
Maybe the freezer wrapped in foil
Holding each emotion and counting
Not a drop of water and the broken founting
Such a miser she won't pitch a penny for luck
Met her doctor at KMart for a nip and tuck
The Baby Queen strikes her rattle
As the basket is passed she puts in nothing
Always wanting to know where the next one comes
And the texture of each bill
Even Barbie held with the covet
Getting summons and the snub it
Ken wears only Gucci suits for his pleasure
Barbie holds each banknote with measure
The miser pinched his pennies
A mime who danced for dimes
Reserved in days of plenty
For days of rose and wine
Planted seeds of kindness
Did tend his garden well
Toiled forever mindless
Awaiting the steeple knell
But came a spring of drought
Bright green did turn to brown
Old miser chanced on doubt
As blood dripped off his brow
The summer hinted rain
In fall the winds did blow
Winter froze the panes
Next spring it rained and flowed
His nest was all but barren
The garden wild with weed
And days of his preparin'
Had all but gone to seed
His roses did not bloom
His wine did sour and smell
No dancing did resume
Alas the tolling bell
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
We are but fleeting shadows in this medium of time
Flickering but briefly on eternity's screen,
Fading from memory when we go out.
A specious immortality blesses a few,
Reputations enhanced or traduced in Clio's fickle pages.
The rest are scurrying ants,bent upon their tasks.
Unlike ants,we suffer from delusions of grandeur,
Believing that what we do is meaningful.
We crave meaning as addicts their substances.
Without it,we drown in dejection or do drugs,
Floundering for survival,clinging fast to illusion.
Will we ever learn to go with the flow?
When Death comes knocking for you,
As come He most certainly will,
Will you cringe like a miser in fear,
Hoarding a few moments more?
Or will you throw wide in welcome the door,
Freely abandoning baubles once held dear?