Long Molded Poems
Long Molded Poems. Below are the most popular long Molded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Molded poems by poem length and keyword.
10/10/2019
I tried to write today, but I couldn’t manage it.
You see, there’s a speck of dirt stuck to the paper.
I tried not to let it get to me, but to no avail,
And had already begun trying to get it off.
Scratching at it was no use, I couldn’t get under the thing.
And washing a paper would defeat the purpose.
It seemed impossible to pry off.
I can’t live with it in my sight, yet can’t throw it away.
I’ll have to take my mind off it somehow,
So I can rest easy tonight.
Just the thought of it will haunt me.
Tomorrow I can write again.
10/11/2019
I got another piece of paper today,
And had managed to get the speck out of my head,
Just long enough to get some thoughts out.
But something else is bothering me.
Now that I think about it, I can’t stop myself.
All the abnormalities of the patterns on the wall,
The crumbs on the desk,
Even the nearly invisible creases in this paper.
I need to get out a bit more,
There’s no way I can function like this.
I can talk more when I’ve dealt with this,
But for now this is all I can think about.
10/12/2019
I couldn’t go to sleep last night.
I had turned on the fan in my room,
But its spinning motion had fascinated me.
The quink motion blurs it together,
But if you focus on a single blade, following it,
It starts to become clear.
After a while I decided to get up.
There was nothing to do, but anything was better
Then staring at the cursed fan.
I found a rubber wall stick toy, molded into the shape of a dragon.
My brother probably got it from a teacher.
After spending the rest of the night trying to keep the wings apart,
I passed out.
10/13/2019
I can’t stay in this house,
The abundance of dust has only become more clear.
My brain won’t rest and I’m seeing things I haven’t before.
The edges of my nails that are begging to be cut,
The imperfections in the palms of my hands,
The papers not all in a straight pile,
The lines of my handwriting inhabiting them,
The dust scattered over the tables,
And the finger marks breaking the unity.
My head is spinning
And I can’t make it stop.
Round and round the ceiling goes.
10/14/2019
Ah, the beauty of sleep medicine.
I finally had a good night’s rest,
And I think I have an idea on what to write about.
Until next time, Journal.
And please, deal with the erase marks,
I need a break.
-Connor Lotts
I'm not sure how it all began,
When this soothsayer became heroic to some.
As he molded a story of greatness,
Against what our nation has now become.
Those that listened were mesmerized by his fable,
As he wove a tale of conspiracy and doubt.
Then his minions spread the veil of shadows,
To every corner with whispers they could shout.
Almost miraculously, this mirage became a leader,
Beginning a reign that some wish to forget.
But his actions won't be lost to history,
Since the aftermath lives on to regret.
Early on in his term of division, the
Tactics would erode basic trusts once held high.
Such that... we are a nation made up almost entirely of
Non-natives, yet that must stop, & he'll build a wall with lies.
Soon after, attacks were focused on the media,
As 'fake news' ran rampant in the press.
While the mouthpieces, such as, Hannity and Tucker,
Provided his message to the ignorant, more or less.
It wasn't long before this infection on credibility,
Attacked our very own intelligence community next.
Because ol' 45 would disparage the CIA & others,
Preferring Kim Jong and Putin's rhetoric and text.
Now to be fair, he did accomplish something...
A huge tax-cut that the wealthy endorsed.
So while the rich got richer, the melody sang loudly,
While the poverty of others was reinforced.
Throughout this one-term the primary focus,
Seemed to be undoing everything his predecessor had done.
Now while most of these efforts were negated,
The passionate pursuit gave himself, so much fun.
The ongoing hatred towards Obama and Hilary,
Was a constant theme in the Trump-laden White House.
Lending fuel to the fire of partisan politics, while
Staff and contemporaries posed quietly as a mouse.
The end of this pathetic term was filled with failure,
As dual impeachments and the lost election were to blame.
Followed by legal matters that consumed a nation,
As proud followers were jailed in his name.
Yet the MAGA minority spread far & wide to the horizon,
Where vocal women shamelessly sought his favor to gain.
So between Marjorie, Lauren, and Kari...
Their BDE chorus was tuned to deny any pain.
While conducting this orchestra of disaster,
A nation held hostage, sought truth in the wake.
To the point where regardless of convictions or pardons,
Our Constitution and democracy, will not be proven fake.
MY FATHER'S GENTLE HANDS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember my father’s hands as a plumber’s hands—fiercely strong, calloused, rough, knuckle-battered, and dirty after a long-day’s work. Those hands shoveled; unclogged drains and toilets; repaired leaks; and installed pipes, commodes, and bathtubs. Those hands provided.
I remember my father’s hands as a fisherman’s hands—perfectly patient, tenacious, self-confident, and unwavering as he held his fishing line and lure stabile, waiting for a fish to take the bait. “Keep your hands steady. Stay focused,” he prompted me when I asked him to teach me how to fish from his flat-bottom boat. Those hands fished longer than they ‘plumbed,’ rarely missing an opportunity to commune with nature, seldom losing a fish. Those hands fed.
I remember my father’s hands as a treasure hunter’s hands—firm, certain, and capable, listening intently to his metal detector’s tones learning to discriminate the sound a good coin makes compared to the choppy, broken sound a junk target makes. Those hands searched, discriminated, and found soulful answers to life’s complex questions and dilemmas.
I remember my father’s hands as gentle healing hands—kind and comforting as he wiped away the tears that sometimes streamed down my face. Without saying a word, those hands loved, consoled, and encouraged—always righting my world.
I remember my father’s hands—full of strength and hope as he took my trembling hands in his. Those hands gave me courage—the courage to reach up in search of everything impossible, leaving me with the unbridled sense that to do anything less was the greatest impossibility of all. Even now whenever I need courage, I can feel his hand around mine helping me to feel invincible once again.
In my mind’s eye, I often see my father’s hands—every line and every wrinkle. They told a story about the kind of man he was. I’ll remember my father’s hands for the remainder of my life. I’m grateful for him, for his enduring spirit and presence, which continues to grace my life despite his passing some years ago.
Dad's hands tell a tale
they did countless loving things
they touched and guided
they shaped and molded
they encouraged me to reach
they held the stars in place
they held rising sun
they sought deep understanding
they chased lonely moon
**~~**
She seemed to be like a delicate portrait
which had fallen from its gilded frame
Abandoned, lying face down on the cold winter floor
An elegant portrait once painted
In resplendent hues of indigo blue
Her eyes told a story of bittersweet
magenta colored sorrows bathed in tears
that etched themselves throughout
The frail intricately, woven canvas of her soul
Over time thoughtless hands had subtly
Contrived to manipulate the beauty
Of her painted portrait into a resemblance
Likened to that of a cold, chiseled statue
Carelessly molded by calloused fingers
Lancinating the fragile fragments
Of her spirit leaving her heart
With etiolated worn fabric - called her life
She dreamed of Icarus soaring down
on silvery wings of steel shrouded
in cobalt and lavender clouds
with outstretched, feathery fingers
lifting her up to dance a Stravinsky ballet
As it was meant to be - not how it was
She was a beautiful, fragile butterfly
bruised by a world much too harsh
for her diminished spirit
leaving her unable to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
making it difficult for her to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
It left her struggling to stay afloat
In the springs melting snow
Life had bruised her tender skin
Gnawing away like insatiable insects
On her delicate pink frescoed soul
Leaving her feeling
Like a fabricated manikin on display
For all to pose her as they may
Muddied soil was the blood that coursed
through her veins, holding her tethered heart
in fleshy, mounds of chocolate brown earth
It held her helpless in its hold
clogged by the silt which descended down
Into spaces of her soul…
Like murky strings of yellow tattered maize
Leaving their ragged tassels tangled
Throughout her life flowing veins
Choking off the blood she needed
To nourish her hungry heart
Mighty winds toppled her willowy limber tree
Snapping the delicate boughs
Of her outstretched arms
As they pulled at the tender fleshy bark of her skin
She stood cold and alone
In the icy winter night wrapped
Only in her wounded, naked flesh
With open, bleeding wounds
Under the icy blue mist of the winter moon
Her heart and soul painfully revealed...
In shades of indigo blue
**~~**
I am a Sanctified beautiful ebony woman
created from God made for man
Bountiful beautiful creation
molded from clay just the right way
I'm so honored to be part of the creative gift you say
I am sanctified beautiful ebony woman
For God doesn't make anything imperfect
Men say i'm beautiful and through the message
I must confess this
i am a beautiful nest
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
Bound for Glory For I am Holy and yes i passed God's test
sanctified beautiful brown eyes radiant bronze brown black and skin
with a mouth so open wide you can see the ocean
and in your faith you contemplate doing the natural thing but temptation
with sin nature
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
No fornication nor adultery will complete its mission for I am a woman of God being bronze black or brown having to turn it around for I can wait
Intercourse is good sometimes maybe great
but it's much better in marriage
As God has ordained and planned it
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
So man if you still think you want me
come join me first in a relationship with GOD
He' s my first groom and He only has room
To give me away to a Godly earthy man
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
Whether you're sinner or saved you can come
My bodies not yours until you do what right what God says
I am in it to win it
So I am hoping you're finished
Even Beyonce says " put a ring on it"
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
But I will not let my spirit fall to burn in hell
Just because my body says yes but the spirit says no
My heart says yes but the spirit says no
We may caress maybe even kiss but be careful mister the body's not yours
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
Be careful might trip and if you fall or if I fall it may be a long way down to hell
Quicker path to Hell's not only going to burn the body but your spirits so too
Not I am releasing this I am a witness the body is good this is true but I rather Have to be a sanctified whole woman who spiritually aroused in truth so my play
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
To any man out there today who
who thinks they want to court me come to God First
because I am married to the spiritual man
the Holy One the almighty creator I'm a bride of God
I am a sanctified beautiful ebony woman
Verse A:
Oh how you've honed rebellion, made an art of breaking rules
Just to garner my affection, but I didn't have the tools
(And I never suffered fools - no I never suffered fools)
I loved you with my diligence and bent my back to make
A bridge of opportunities and a path for you to take
(Cleared a passage for your sake - yes a passage for your sake)
Chorus A:
Can you see it, in the mist
There on high - there on high?
There's an arch, heaven-kissed
In the sky, the hazy sky
You may not see it now
But I built it strong with love
And one day it will hold you
Bye-and-bye, bye-and-bye
Yes, one day it will hold you
Bye-and-bye.
Verse B:
Oh I know how I've failed you in many ways I can't explain
We'll never have a friendship - I've caused you so much pain
(So many wounds remain - yes so many wounds remain)
Still I love you to my marrow, with a magnitude, profound
And I built a span, enduring, so you'd walk on solid ground
(So you'd be safe-and-sound - yes so you'd be safe-and-sound)
Chorus B:
Can you see it, in the night
There on high - there on high?
There's an arch, burning bright
In the sky, the somber sky
Perhaps you can not see it
But with love, it long endures
And one day it may save you
Bye-and-bye, bye-and-bye
Yes, one day it may save you
Bye-and-bye.
Verse C:
Oh I know my life is waning, and my faculties are weak
My strength is failing daily, and I've lost my grand physique
(Now my prognosis is bleak - yes my prognosis is bleak)
And though I can not tell you how I feel before I go
I know someday you'll cross that bridge, and then, my son, you'll know
(Just how much I love you so - yes how much I love you so)
Chorus C:
Can you see it, through the storm
There on high - there on high?
There's a refuge, safe and warm
In the sky, the windy sky
I know that you can't see it, but have faith that it is there
I molded it with these two hands, with kindness, love and care
So every time you need a bridge you'll know that I am there
To carry you to safety
Bye-and-bye, bye-and-bye
Yes, to carry you to safety ...
Bye-and-bye.
(Repeat Out)
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
I write to you with nothing
I write to you not knowing who I am in you
I write to you with just thoughts, ideas of the ideal man
Dear father I write to you in prayer, with my knees on the floor, in thought and with hands in the air
Father I sing to you
I praise you and see your hand everywhere
Father I write to you with tears and a pain only flesh may bleed to please
Father I see you seeing us from heaven and in wonder that you have left your son in each of our hearts, leaving us wondering how much we mean as your sons on Earth.
Father Oh how great thou art, crafted in living
How much you mean to us.
Dear loving Father.
A father who motivates, greatness in morals and being an example
Dear Father oh how you have molded me in age, vision and in your xyz of principles
Father I watch you in awe
Watching your chess moves of living and being the king of our home.
Tat'omdala indoda which knows to respect and love
A Father I hope to be, how I mean to be you and walk in your enormous shoes
How much you mean to us.
Dear Father who isn't there.
How much I mourn your presence.
Dear Father how could you let me hang in a flag of colourless colour as I motivate to motivate being a man.
Dear Father how much I mean to have seen you hold me and just say four letter.
Dear Father I write to you with my tears and emptiness
In my pain of hoping I may finally have someone I look like, who may correct my wrongs
How much you mean to me.
Dear selfish Father
Oh how I hate you
Dear Father may you be blessed in a terrible sorrow
Father I write to you hoping you'd just say sorry and not return as it is you I scorn
Oh father who abused and hit my mother in days of intoxication
Oh father who never gave me anything, not even a name
Oh how much your actions of pain have removed the manliness in man
How much you mean to me
Dear future fathers.
May money and pride never seem to appetise you
Fathers may you be real men who love their daughters and duplicates enough to mold them into real instruments of a better world
Dear future men, may morals still be applicable to you in spite of all this twerking and foolish deeds
Dear men I write to you for you to love and honour your wives
And to continue growing as I honour how much you mean you to me.
HOOKEY DAY
So you went off to school son and what did you learn?
will it make the world better the next time it turns?
No I didn’t go to school ma, I played hooky today
and I learned that it’s time to throw the books away.
I went to the cities and I walked down the streets,
and talked to the graduates where they work and compete.
I looked at the systems that they have contrived
and it’s hard to believe that we’re still alive.
I heard bankers scheming financial plots
to turn all of the haves into have-nots,
to place the whole world under total control
in endless poverty with no hope of parole.
I heard doctors and lawyers speaking in tongues
to patients uncured as the innocent hung.
Big pharma was addicting whole populations
as wall street convulsed in financial elation.
I saw shadows behind men high in power
as the world grew darker hour by hour.
The light at the end of the tunnel seen
was in the hands of an interrogation team.
My thoughts became knots, all tied up in the hype
that the media weaves through the lines of it’s type.
Life was distorted by camera and crews
***** called art and fiction called news.
Did you study your lessons and pass all your tests,
will you use what you learn to become a success?
I learned that the minds of those studying there
are molded by evil for tools of despair.
They're captains of industry, the corporate select
who ravage the earth and cause human neglect.
They measure success by raids and attacks—
and the depth of the blade in society’s back.
They control the planet and technology
that could energize earth, pollution free,
but they profit more from machinery
that fouls the air, the earth and the sea.
Go to their schools and you’re taught to agree
with the policies of the powers that be.
To aid and abet them in criminal goals
of pillage and plunder and global control.
To cast aside all conscience and sense
and leave the future to pay the expense.
To covet and hoard, collect and amass
and consume the earth to the last blade of grass.
These are the men of letters and worth
of corporations destroying the earth.
Go sit with their scholars and sully your brain
I’ll pass on the classroom and keep myself sane.
United States, 50 united partners, 50 regions that form a nation.
Each with individual States laws different from the others yet is still an amazing creation.
Till the new world was founded, tyranny ruled in Europe, people look at America as hope.
A new beginning a new place to worship as you pleased, to freely express ones beliefs sometimes irritating the Pope.
European domination has always been the Europeans way of thinking, it was a courageous thing.
Leaving the European masters settling into their country. A change that blessed the new nation, what settling and fresh fruit did bring.
The first to arrive had what they had and had to make do they prayed and were thankful for the chance to be on this new land.
Many of the first didn’t see this nation as it is today; they built and passed down the heritage of the law, they trusted the Lord understand?
Brave woman and children followed their dad or mom because God’s law was in the travel book we called the Holy Bible.
The greatest gift that God gives us is that of the knowledge of His laws, edicts and Holy Festivals, we can all have a Spiritual survival.
Freedom for any faith, any ethnic culture, made us molded to this land.
Looking to God for guidance we thrive in strength, God’s guiding hand
We were building a concept new to the old world order; freedom came at a high price.
England gave reluctantly our freedom as we chose to be a nation of God, at a great cost of human life.
Now here in this day our streets are filled with violence, sometimes a killing a day.
We’ve really have turned on God’s laws...
As a single person with no millions I’m at a loss on how to help, so I go back and ask the Father, not to be ired but it sticks in my craw.
We are supposed to be “One Nation under God”; God laws His Holy days and festivals have to take precedent.
We are His creations His spiritual children the chosen, so be vigil have faith we are truly Jesus’ descendants.
All Christians are called many however are not chosen, How come?
Something so simple to enter God’s Kingdom, yet not easy for some.
Transgressors leaders in the world of ****.
Beware brethren” Like a thief in the night.” The 50 lines, states won’t matter much to the Lord, when Jesus returns, because God’s world will be back to the norm.
Your words are always pleasant to my soul
and their intent sweet as honey in its comb
and where you walk buds and blossoms flower
my desire to capture its beauty in every hour
Your movements are married to every virtues grace
and we ourselves desire to clearly reflect its face
you did seek our healing of every wounded pain
and all its comforts is the song of its refrain
They are drawn to you like a mighty crowd
though you are soft spoken not among the loud
it is your solace they seek in all their days
until the time they learn the fullness of your ways
Like the earth we are mired in its clay
until we are molded into learning Love your way
so baked and scorched like the deserts of the earth
until your reign is known and of its worth
Soft and tender like a mother to her babe
barely a whisper the voice the spirit made
you drew pictures in every word we heard
until its knowledge we have completely learned
Like children you gave everyone your own affection
directed them to give the highest values their inspection
fed those who followed all their bodies , hearts and mind
taught them to seek until the noble virtues find
And as we grew taught us the things to cherish
that we must never allow those things to perish
and this is why I will always turn to you
there is such sweetness the things you taught to do
There can never be enough lifting of your praise
you have sought to give us love with everlasting days
So gently did you treat us like a newborn child
rocked us with your own songs and of a love that's undefiled
I hear your music its like an evening serenade
I long to hear it the songs of life's parade
you are my King the master of its every song
among your company where I desire to belong
The spirit and the bride say
Come and take life's water free
amen Let your kindgom come
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC