Long Morning time Poems
Long Morning time Poems. Below are the most popular long Morning time by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Morning time poems by poem length and keyword.
Lord, I am yours;
There are new beginnings and I must get them;
One in the morning time, some with same old long lost friend;
But He’s the one I rely on, in Him there’s trust;
And in man there’s no victory only lost;
On another day, will you come and stay;
Will you come fully and pray;
I am your vision you’re my watch;
I am your voice when you talk;
And I breathe the life of you inside you
I am yours, I am yours…
Come together right now over here;
I am yours and you’re my dear;
I am your vision you’re my watch;
I am your voice when you talk;
And in man there’s no victory only lost;
On another day, will you come and stay;
I am the truth and I’m the way
And I breathe the life of you inside you
I am yours, I am yours…
On another day, will you come and stay;
Will you come fully and pray;
I am your vision you’re my watch;
I am your voice when you talk;
And I breathe the life of you inside you
I am yours, I am yours…
9/10/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Arranged music by Jonathan Kabore
From anthology Jonathan Kabore’s “Kabore Praise” ©2010
Sometimes, we have had a good and blessed day
But we failed to acknowledge that fact
The weather was as beautiful as a peacock
It was sunny and the visitors were observing the bay
The birds were chirping and hopping all day long
The children were out there playing in the park
The dogs were so jolly that they did not bark
And the cats were cleaning the bowl with their tongue
Sometimes, we have had a good and blessed day
We take everything for granted, like it is nothing
We don't appreciate it and don't count our blessings
It is six o'clock, let's recite the angelus. Let the bell rings
We're blessed and lucky to be alive; it's time to pray
It's time to thank the Almighty; and it's time to sing.
Copyright © January, 2019 Hebert Logerie All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry
My tale goes back fifty years to my boyhood days,
to a mansion three stories high near the road way,
we boys aged ten, with girls not allowed to play,
our family rules were strict, we better obey!
the girls had their own groups and played away from boys,
so shy, they were home with mums and liked girlish toys!
on way to school, would pass them by, greet them with Hi!
beyond such brief exchanges there were no further ties!
May’s summer scorching heat brought us school holidays,
two months of sheer delight, thanks to Sun’s sizzling rays!
up early morning, time was ours to waste and slay,
played under banian tree covered in dust and clay!
cricket, favourite sport, under shade of the tree,
local priest would referee, if we did not agree!
some days he would even serve snacks with homemade tea!
our playground was near his place from where he could see!
an old granny was spectator from her thatched house,
cheering loud from her chair in white saree and blouse,
lonely she enjoyed our game having lost her spouse,
would reward us with sweets, with milk from her own cows!
decade past went to see where my childhood had been,
tree was gone, granny had died and priest was not seen,
a young lady greeted me so pretty and lean,
first meeting with my future wife, then in her teen!
The morning mist seen at dusk
hovering and surrounding all
searching for a new place to dwell
seems to stand still
and linger for a long time
but as the morning sun shines down
it will begin to vanish
To come and leave quickly
as the day will move on
As our Life
For even if we Live on this Earth
longer than one has seen
it shall be but a mist of a day
It is easy to get caught up in this world
when believing this is all we have
thriving to possess all one can obtain
in this short period of time
breeding chaos and greed
Nearsighted of the souls need
Not even ample time for most
to achieve temporary desires
longing till the day to be satisfied
While we are not guaranteed
to even remain a mist until the morning sun
For our time here may seem like forever
with many sufferings and pain
but One who knows the Lord
will be united for eternity
never to remember the waves they sailed
looking for that new land
not to count birthdays again
With no more attacks from ones who love to sin
To embrace the everlasting grin
A new morning began with sorted thoughts, trying to understand
So many things happening here and across our precious land
I grab a coffee with hopes that some things are just a dream
But, then I wake up with the sun and it is not as it would seem
So I hold onto the simple things I like, as tightly as I can
I carry on with gratitude, to get through the things I can’t stand
I seek all the beauty in this granted creation I can find
It is the way to find inner peace and to settle the mind
I know what time brings, what this new day has to offer to me
It is all a matter of what I choose to see
Heidi Sands
11/4/19
Gainesville Four went missing on Halloween Night 1974
Three friends and a mother of the youngest one, Fee Fore
Fee’s real name was Fiona, and she was a delight
As were her friends Char and Lynne who went missing that night
Though this was fifty-one years back, there has never been a trace
Whatever happened to these four, must have been erased.
Not a neck bone or a leg bone, a tooth or any DNA
Nothing has shown up of the women who went away
Their purses were found in the house, next to the front door
It is as if they were marched out, maybe by more than four
The parents of two of the girls left this earth without knowing
What happened to their daughters on Halloween that was snowing
There were no prints, because the snow melted by morning time
Their cars were in the driveway – red, black, blue and lime.
Gainesville Four have been missing for fifty-one years I’m afraid.
I wonder if they were taken by aliens out of this Everglade?
He presses up against the open door
where the sun glows and warms the carpet.
Such simple need he has
that give him comfort and joy as his eyes close
soaking in the warm sun's rays.
His shiny soft black fur absorbs the light
casting his small shadow across the floor.
He drops his head and stretches lengthwise
taking in the radiance
and he sighs quiet and soft.
He is toasty warm stepping into the shade
just momentarily to cool down as he rolls on his back.
He returns again, loving this morning time
holding onto it as long as he can
before the sun rises higher and is out of sight.
Life is so simple
living a dog's life.
The noises & madness inside my sick brain
Every day gets more & more insane
The overanalytics of mundane life on the daily
Of course I'd rather dream of you - blame me?
Wondering & wanna catch up on years
Resurfacing certain insecure fears
The pressure's trying to rekindle certain past tears
The contradictions & fictions - I don't wanna listen
'Cause there's something I happen to be missing
Like an OfferUp post I'm re-listing
I miss you. I miss Florida. I miss our Florida home.
I miss the familiarity of our zone
I miss the water - I miss my aquamarine beach
I miss mine & your peace
I miss the talks, the walks, the night
I miss these times with hysterical laughs - no fight
I miss the plans we were gonna do
I miss the Florida stars with you
I miss our weird stories - our former glory
Grabbing your hand when movies were gorey
I miss the smell of oatmeal in the morning time
I miss your Sandman wine
I miss finding new music for our playlist
I miss how you put me into melodious bliss
I miss the laughter when we'd smoke
I miss your random corny jokes
The good times are fading quickly away -
So what would you say if I said
Let's make new ones starting any day?
Would you once again be down for us -
Or would you say, "no way?"
That goofball husband of hers brought her to this joint to see her get drunk for the very first time. She actually plugged her nose trying to sip her first glass of beer. Good grief. 20 minutes and she barely finished it. She walked to the restroom and I felt her teetering just a little bit. She likes the feeling though, I can tell! I sure liked it when she started boogying to the beat of the band on her way back to the table. Too bad Mr. dingbat won’t ever dance with her. She keeps tapping her hands on the table to the rhythm of the music. That’s why I have to write so slow. . . .
Now she’s tryin ta drink another beer but she can hardly stand it an her husband sez come on don’t ya wanna know how it fills ta be drunk? She says well at list I fill buzzd now. . .
The nice buzz wore off. It’s at least an hour later. She and hubbie got this idea to go to the liquor store. First time she ever went to one. She thought maybe brandy would taste better so then she could drink something stronger and know how it felt to be drunk. Brandy sounded sweet and fruity to her. Boy was she wrong. She took a little taste and it burned going down. That stuff sucks just like the beer. . . .
Wow she jus finisht tha hole boddle rily fast lik mebbie ten minuts ago so she kud fil drunk an she put me down ta finnish tha boddle in one shot now she kant evin kip her eyez opun UH ohhhhhhh
Epilogue: The preceding narration was based on actual fact. Upon consuming an entire bottle of brandy in less than ten minutes, "she" immediately passed out, and I recall she awoke in the morning having forgotten everything that transpired once she fell asleep. Furthermore, when she went into the bathroom the next morning and saw some flecks of vomit on the walls, she was quite amazed. Why? Because she had no recollection of throwing up, and she realized her goofball husband had actually attempted to clean up a mess in their house for the first time in their young married life!!!
By the way, Jenny, if you happen to be reading this, Shhhh. Please do not tell her other sisters. It would surely get back to you guys’ mother, and your poor upstanding church-loving mom might have a heart attack to hear of her daughter’s one transgression with the devil’s brew! Sincerely, Her Sober (albeit sometimes fanciful) Pen
Each day dawns laden with secrets.
The morning dews are crystal balls,
each holding a secret trailer of
a fragment of day.
The birds, chirping incessantly,
gossip among themselves about the
delightful things you’ll find at
the weekend market.
In the crevice between the sun's
virginal light and last night's shadows,
an old friend waits for a
scheduled chance encounter,
bearing a gift of forgotten memories.
Fresh brew drips into the carafe of your
old coffee machine, tapping out
a Morse code of the new
thoughts and feelings that will percolate
into your brain in the hours to come.
And the curtains billow with echoes
of the laughs to be laughed.
The day is waiting to confess
its plans for you.