Long Naturally Poems
Long Naturally Poems. Below are the most popular long Naturally by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Naturally poems by poem length and keyword.
Facing your reality can be your greatest fear
difficult decisions as to where you go from here
and it can take the balls of God to follow what is clear
you don’t want to go backdown slopes and disappear
You can take the easy option not meet your desires
but you should follow your heart seeing what transpires
as you’ve already lost it all and faced all of the trials
you’ve nothing left to lose so what’s the point of the denial
That fear of what’s ahead is not ahead but in your head
In one hundred years from now we will all be dead
that fear is there to conquer or you’ll live with the regrets
of being someone long ago who everyone forgets
Being stung by the limelight may have changed your perspective
It only knocked you backwards you’re not naturally selected
So don’t be stunned just do what’s right get your thoughts collected
Who cares about opinions when nobody’s perfected
You know you more than they do
and you care for you the most
you know just what you can do
dare yourself when all oppose
I could have done so much more
if I knew what I was fighting for
with this second chance I’m sure
I’ll give what I didn’t give before
Those who look from balconies
have also reached their boundaries
I’ll change what Is surrounding me
Up off the ground undoubtedly
It’s all about the balls of God
slightly bigger than Uranus
Give it all that you have got
you might be rich and famous!
And if not you had a go....
There’s really nothing real in the human reality
consumers in costumes fake personalities
skin colour hair colour forged by chemicals
superficial mammals protest tests on animals
a world organic we cover up in suits
the panic to cover natural hair roots
kidding the truth in high heeled boots
confidence found in silicone boobs
media perceptions false accents
a need for acceptance fools acting
a little is sweet but a lot is not
a lot there is and natural forgot
are people embarrassed by their true self
so insecure they parade something else
the image of society somewhat unnatural
yet we naturally act unnatural and it's factual
You think you're Godzilla
but you're just a Gorilla,
that's what happens when you've got gonorrhea,
my skin colours vanilla
my skills are killa and real
you're run of the mill, a fail
can't you tell you didn't do well,
that Kartel manure smell
of Kountry music don't sell,
a wannabe that wants to be on X Factor
in a field riding a wrecked tractor,
tracks that no mind will capture,
you're no rapper, a can't act actor and no rhyme writer
with poor rhyming from your core
the fact is you naturally bore,
getting done by amateurs
that means s**t for sure and below my stature,
take a step back and see the big picture,
there's no record label coming for your signature,
you should turn around and head for the door
and not turn this battle rap into a war,
snore, pass out snore music,
20 years and there's still no use for it,
your rhymes are insignificant
your average skill's no different
stop thinking you're magnificent
and realise you're just a hunt.
Yet you think you're good,
umm missing a nail or screw
let's face facts your music is poo,
can you not make a beat with flow?
Your music makes me sit in a seat depressed and low
through ignorance your skill's seen no grow,
so excuse my rant but your music is pants,
professional status, you've got no clucking chance.
You're so unlikely to upstage my quickly written
lickety split thermonuclear lit quick wit
with whatever you pick
to pull out your bag of tricks
because I'll make it unstick
quicker than thumbs can click through your music,
making videos in which you go on the phone,
cliche prone, stereotype replica
look at ya forever inferior,
making out you've golden interior,
but Postman Pat out delivers letters
and is better with more under the hat
you've empty space where your brain sat,
writing rubbish, getting fat,
one year in I'm getting published
you skank like a grandad with one wish
you long to be served a contract,
take note of the situation
you've been rhyming for a generation,
and you'll never be a sensation,
just a symbol of humiliation,
........ cus Rosko thinks he's the dogs bollocks,
while the rest of us just think he's bollocks.
That's all bossco, that's all I have to country cartel you.
Over and out, they call me Sue.
The crimson blood colored invariable,
flows free through every single heart,
as the common ancient ancestor etched
the footprints of humanity on earth.
The shared lineage thriving insulated,
splintered into diverse faction of races,
physical traits got naturally typified,
as melanin played with color on skin.
Born human under one seamless free sky,
equality pines behind veiled deprivation.
The unkind history manipulates artificially
the misplaced sense of partisan privilege.
For those under the sky black clouds melt
in the silent rain of unseen tears of agony,
suffocate in the toxic air of apathy and denial,
let’s open the closed window of human rights.
___________________
December 8, 2021
Contest : Human Rights
Sponsor : Robert James Liguori
(for Stephen)
There’s a certain point in summer
when it feels like it’ll last forever
a dazed mix of complacency and lethargy
when everything is tired
from the gardens, to the dogs, to our senses.
Satiated perhaps, but it’s something more,
a sense we have arrived at the peak of the peak season,
the fullness of Leo,
in all his solar glory,
and what can top that?
Of course this is about the exact time the nights get cooler,
we notice the peak has passed,
and winter approaches
with all those chores undone.
So is life....
in all its simplicity,
and yet with this endless cycle of seasons
the endless cycle of human ups and downs also churns on,
all the things that
naturally arise in our habitual
dualistic mind.
And this is far more taxing and exhausting
than the external heat and dust and smoke,
exhausting and overwhelming,
at least for me.
So a good friend tells me something today
he probably didn’t make up
but just as easily as anyone could have;
“Everything you need you can get from a single exhalation.”
(Originally published in my 3rd book, Sun Made Flesh and Fiber, 2019)
One more year before the wild bird flies her coop.
Not bad. Bravo. Wise one.
You are more than enough.
Your optimism shines throughout your poems.
You know yourself.
Any idea how rare that is?
There are seventy-year olds who have no idea of themselves
They live a life set down by others
Follow a path
not their own
They do not realize there was a choice
No one said it
Whether miserable or barely happy, they do not complain
Knowing no better.
One more year before you leave the family nest, my friend
Your words will carry you to great heights,
You will write poetry to help save the others
It will come more naturally and completely
as you sleep in a nest of your own making
With pillows you choose and a comforter that
makes you feel safer than you had ever dared dreamed.
A mere 365 days until you can be fully, utterly, diabolically you.
Live spontaneously! Enthusiastically kick around your joy.
Take risks. Love people no one else ever would or could.
Bring home stray puppies. Dance your dance. Sing your song.
You are on your way. Only 365 days. I am so proud of you.
I see the optimism and enthusiasm in your poetry, and I smile
realizing you are heading toward the biggest adventure of your life.
I love this for you. Take risks. Have fun. Fear no one.
Enjoy yourself like you have never enjoyed yourself before.
Happy birthday. It is almost time....
The Riddle
We live separate lives: one when we’re awake, which is
the one in which the devil partakes and to whom we pay our dues,
and the other is when we’re asleep, where we pray God to rest
our souls in peaceful bliss, as we exit reality and enter dreamland
or vice versa, depending on one’s beliefs, superstitions, or perspective.
And while in the latter, I conjured up myself eating in a soup kitchen
when I overheard one person say to another, in a convincing, intellectual way,
“Don’t feed ‘em too much, or else they’ll get fat and lazy,
but the chickens, let ‘em get fat: that’ll make for a better broth.”
Naturally, fat, lazy, farm-raised chickens make for a better broth,
and so I looked at my reflection in the window and conjectured
that it couldn’t be me they were referring to in this establishment.
And that was the gist of what I could remember when I awoke, but I
could hear the devil laughing because I didn’t understand the riddle.
Songbirds singing in the wind
Beautiful birdies on the limbs
Field mice playing in the grass
Mighty owl makes a pass
On this morning I do proclaim
Nature's playing its morning games
My presence is silent, it is not known
While I'm sitting stealthy up in a tree
Watching nature be nature, so naturally
Glasses in one hand,Camara in the other
My goal; to capture our loving mother
The conditions are fair
The timing is right
Today will be the day that I capture
Illusive bigfoot on his morning flight
They say he's not real,it's in my head
But I'll prove them all wrong
With a picture that shows
Well it'll show
He's not dead
R.K.H
10/16/2021
Form:
More than the night view
More than the billion stars
I could forever keep counting with you
More than the moonlight making beautiful our scars
I love the feeling of being under the sky
The only time feeling small makes me happy
The only time though being alone I breathe security
I love to be covered by something bigger than me
More than the night view
More than the billion stars
I could forever keep counting with you
More than the crashing of waves calming our worries
I love the feeling of hearing the sounds of the sea
It's the perfect background music for sharing life stories
We would maybe naturally speak more truthfully
I love how at night the sky and the sea look the same
It comforts me when there's more similarities than differences to see
More than the night view
More than the billion stars
I could forever keep counting with you
More than the many places the infinity of the universe inspires my mind to imagine we could travel to
I love the serenity I settle into
By myself, thinking of you
Form:
Must you leave again?
Your strong, capable hands
rest naturally upon my
curvaceous hips
masculine against feminine.
My world explodes with your
seductive, electrifying touch
as your inquiring blue eyes
penetrate mine so deeply.
Knowingly, you scan every
inch of my body and face.
I melt, as your well formed
lips curve into a faint smile
as you explore with restraint.
My hands glide over your
tanned, muscled arms
feeling secure, as they
wrap around my small frame.
I silently plead, stay with me
always, and never let me go.
Must you leave again?
Written on 3/7/2016