Long Naught Poems
Long Naught Poems. Below are the most popular long Naught by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Naught poems by poem length and keyword.
Every time I think of you, a smile runs across my face
The moments that we shared in part, can never be erased.
It may have been at a haggard pace and now there's just an empty space,
my world has shifted out of place, as I long for your embrace,
to grasp your waist
your lips to taste
I opened up, i was vulnerable, you seemed to be amenable,
and now I feel incapable of moving on irrecoverable,
my sadness is insufferable this feeling is uncomfortable,
my intentions only honorable, my love for you unalterable.
I hope im not making mistakes, by holding on, lying in wait,
this love I have... I cannot shake
she made me feel so awake,
alive inside a creative take
it’s her love I cant forsake,
its why I feel this lonely ache.
I’ll persevere, I'll move along
but deep down... I’m holding on,
even as I write this song,
hoping our hearts truly belong,
I know my love cannot be wrong
its hard as hell to stay so strong,
the suffering may be prolonged,
I wont deny my love lives on.
I wont give in, I wont give up,
Im realistic in my thought.
I've learned the lessons I've been taught,
I know a love can be caught
and just as fast, rendered-naught.
Its just my soul, it’s tied in knots,
It’s tough to prevent a hardening heart
But a love like this, a fight be fought.
Just to be sure... just for the aught.
A love so special should be sought.
to its end... it’s natural force,
remaining friends, no remorse
for letting that love run its course
Let love stand tall! Let the chips fall!
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never have loved at all.
Let love stand tall! Let the chips fall!
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never have loved at all.
In a meadow lush and green,
by a lake grand as a sea,
there once was a lonely house
small and brown.
Inside it someone would wait
for a man who went away,
a man who was long ago
in the ground.
It was here the two would meet
and exchange words tenderly,
until the day he went off
to fight Rebs.
The first months the letters came,
after that she’d wait in vain,
folks on that lake all said that
he was dead.
But no body was returned,
so the young woman held firm,
and would not leave that place on
Champlain’s shore.
So she built a rugged shack,
every nicety she lacked,
and she would not leave the spot
ever more.
None could make her see the sense,
and she kept that hovel hence,
folks would bring her food so
she’d not starve.
She’d spend hours on the sand,
waiting for her missing man,
with an empty stare that made
folks alarmed.
They would leave her their alone,
and go home and hug their own,
thanking God that they knew naught
such hard tears.
As the decades rolled on past,
and trees grew up through the grass,
her hair and face were weathered
by the years.
Then one bright morning in May
a young girl did pass that way,
saw two people dancing she
did not know.
They were young and full of life,
dressed like a new man and wife,
in a sprint to the village
she did go.
When the elders all came out,
the stench there left them no doubt,
the woman had been dead for at
least a week.
Then just buried her outside,
they all shook their heads and sighed,
no one remained to even
stand and speak.
The hovel was quickly burned,
into memory it turned,
but folks still see two souls dance
by the lake.
Perhaps it’s a trick of light,
or things finally are right,
and God has seen to fix a
great mistake.
Rules are made and set to function
as their roleplay trumps yours,
lest the game be of election,
A-Plus, winner of wars.
Won by words avoids dysfunction,
body ails naught mind ills,
democracy changed our nation,
daughters, sons--still kills.
Tyranny wins o'er weaker minds
let the bonnet be free ...,
stung 'said, creator of mankind's,
--they left ... slides down that tree.
Evil knows evil, knows their own,
that tree's a free-for-all.
Evil don't overcome good ... sewn
Good overcome evil.
Once 'ere the Eagle flew its course,
turned bee caught and stung 'um,
bitter herbs--better duck or borsch,
--keep loved ones safe at home.
There are those who think they know
the depth of love.
I fear they have but scratched
its surface
tasted but its scented
temptations
deluded themselves
in its dalliances
for love demands
surrender
in the guise
of victorious
submission.
Love builds a fortress
in a field of daisies
comes to know
each cherished petal
watches as the seasons
work their wiles
sees naught
but the depth of
beauty's beauty
inhales the distant scent
of love's forever
now.
For love is grit and nerve
and sinew....shared
shaped by the winds
of joy and pain
polished by the satin
sheen of lust
nurtured by the tedium
of time.
There are those who think they know
the depth of love
I bid them..........Bon Voyage.
John G. Lawless
11/28/2020
One time when I was in nursey school, Miss Shanahan had everyone sit in a circle and one-by-one say what we wanted to be when we grow up.
It was what you’d expect…
Doctor
Firefighter
Astro naught
Truck driver
Race car driver
Veterinarian
Police officer
Movie star
Baseball player
Actress
Princess
Detective
Engineer…and the like
Then it was my turn:
“What do you want to be when you grow up Bobby?”
I thought about it a minute, and said
“God.”
That threw her for a loop.
There was no braggadocio.
No narcissism, no conceit, no misplaced pride
I didn’t think I had a shot at it or anything.
Just seemed to me it would be the top job.
Can’t blame me.
A full heart chokes
too full to feel
anything but broken.
Seems all is lost
and only phantoms linger
must I remain?
A hollow husk, a remnant
yet, engorged and choking
on maudlin memories lingering
I cannot stop the feelings
the haunted thoughts of loss
surrounded by what’s broken.
Rise up, wrap, beribboned breaks
yes, I must remain
for others have a need not lost
in pointless, pitiful sobs and choking.
Regain, search, reform to feel
the worth of love which lingers.
A man child grown who has lingered
past the vows which broke
too full, still, with anger of his own to feel
I must remain
anxious, prone, and choking
for forgiveness must not be lost.
Let it be forgiveness loosing
let sweet reminiscence linger
un-choked
let the bond of love live unbroken
though soon I must go and he remain
and naught will be left to feel.
For there are many types of feelings
and many ways to lose
what remains
what lingers
the broken
chokings.
Be gone death and loss
remain but joy a lingering
repair my broken life un-choked by grief.
Fear
I raise my hand from the banister
As I ascend a flight of stairs
The air is musky and quite repugnant
And dust is a common feature
Though beneath the smell of musk
Blood lingers like a faded memory
At the very top of the stairs I pause
Gazing at an antique vase
Sun flowers are painted on the surface
Yet the realism runs far deeper
It's then that I notice the insignificant stain
A small spot that ruins perfection
And as I stare the blood begins to run
Drizzling down the side of the vase
The blood hits the floor like the feet of a cat
And races toward me like a red carpet
Sunlight that once eagerly streamed inside
Falls flat leaving me in bleak shadows
Stumbling backwards to escape the blood
I falter at the sound of ear peircing screams
A Banshee has awoken in the midst of my nightmare
Filling my pounding ears with sharpened knives
The black lights flicker once and then light the room
Coming from nowhere and everywhere
Crystal blue orbs filled with curiosity silently judge me
Like the eyes of an elegant immortal goddess
Her pale hand raises upward as I gaze transfixed
And her index finger beckons me
A curse has been placed upon me as I step forward
Unable to break the spell that holds me
The blood that once seemed so weak and so shallow
Now forms a puddle through which I wade
Destiny stares at me from her mirroring eyes wide with seduction
And I abhor my inability to escape this façade
Within only a foot from her I find my feet finally come to a halt
As her lips split into the ghost of a smile
Her hands descend into the scarlet puddle of blood before raising them
Blood slowly seeping from the imperfect bowl her hands form
And then she blows the blood into my face and my body shatters
I'm naught but a magnificent creature of despair myself
And when I awake shaking and stuttering with the police shaking me
The eyes of my immortal goddess, a Banshee, seem to smile at me
Without words I can tell that my end is nigh
For fear was not meant to live forever
Because of tomorrow
You fight and kill for Earth's renown,
You labor and weary the life you never lived,
Because of tomorrow that may not come,
The greed dictates your path in time,
You lied, and stole to fill your barn
You kept your dust on Sand and called them wealth.
Because of tomorrow that may not come,
You killed another to keep a treasure,
You use your power to acquire much.
The sickened frame and the ebbing strength ignored
You take from all and called it wealth
Because of tomorrow that may not come,
You spent your strength for things of time
and bade forever far from view.
Because of tomorrow that may not come,
You fought and hate your fellow for naught
In bitter rancor of unsettled greed,
But if tomorrow comes for you,
your dust is kept for all but you,
And men of time die their death like fools
Gathering dust with none to keep.
Lost Battles
Rubies and blue sapphires all winking in the sun
as they topple down the stream
today the bloodshed’s done.
Lo the fallen kingdom, the people all enslaved
wickedness upon them, not one will be saved.
Royal purple satin, overlaid in gold
carried in a babbling brook,
collecting river mold.
Lo the bloody water, the desecrated field
carrion birds as judges, and naught will be repealed.
Broken swords and broken shields are littered all around,
the body of a crownless king
is prostrate on the ground.
His arms are reaching toward the bank and nothing in his hands
outstretched toward a kingdom lost, upon the bloodied sands.
So kneel and pledge your fealty to the headless royal crown
join it in the depths below,
breathe in - and then just drown.
Or bow your head upon the blocks, the axe above you hangs
hunger for what once was yours, and suffer from the pangs.
No mercy will be given, no pardons and no grace
the foe is screaming at the gate,
“Surrender, show your face!”
The only option left for you is rise and try to run
or join the captive sapphires all winking in the sun.
10/13/16
Midst myriad manifestations of last days’ signs, manifold
Yearning for the Saviour’s blessed coming is my hope; verily yes…
Hope* anchored by divine assurance, smiting helplessness
Offers sublime serenity along optimism opulence
Peace that props moving-on pursuits, propelling progress
Exudes exuberance to face challenges through God’s enablement…
Indeed welcoming tomorrow with divine conquering instinct
Surely awakened toward victory by the Holy Spirit…
I invoke the Almighty in faith for pardon of guilt and iniquity
Nourished with His assurance-fulfillment, faltering never…
Grace-bestowed, love-endowed beyond wishes good and grand
Opportunities for doing things better I shall optimize
Driven to reach out with bliss as the Lord blesses my days…
Nurtured well for service-stewardship, I strive to prosper nonetheless
Ordered by my Sovereign Father, omniscient and omnipotent
Thankful to triumph with His truth against fatalism-turmoil…
Inevitabilities I accept as realities not unknown to Christ Who is infallible
Now and always, my spirit relies in Him against nay and naught negating…
Forever grateful to the Creator-Master for freedom’s functionality
Actively affirming decisive choice against fatalistic frustration-angst
Toiling hard, trusting the Providence while overtaking trials tenaciously...
Enjoying am I to exemplify empowered existence!
*Psalm 78:7 That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments.
August 21, 2022
2nd place, "This or That, Vol 13- Title Chosen: Of Fatalism" Poetry Writing Contest; Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 9/4/2022.