Long Need Poems
Long Need Poems. Below are the most popular long Need by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Need poems by poem length and keyword.
abreast of nightshade tipping the moon
hands of iron cupped my desire coaxing me,
into the shadow-lands of my obsession
the shades moved
as your fingers found their mirror,
and iridescent trails of dark-light
kaleidoscope across my skin
I have visions of your hands
and their movements,
I feel a rush of want
to pull in their need
obsessed
I watch each wave
within every gesture
I draw them closer
until your fingers,
cradle me
in shadows of night
within the palms
of your hands
and all that remains
is the jay feathers,
and maple leaves
drifting onto my heart
Eye’m know good at punk chew asian and my speeeling is pretty pour
A period is a woman’s monthlies and I don’t no what to ewes comma,s four
Ellipsis I ewesed in Arthur’s infinite dot thirteen poetry form. I hope I ewesed them to good affect
May bee I knead a dick shun airy and some punk chew asian lessens!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Buy the whey, my friend has edited this fore me and she thinks my speeling is prefect sew eye have got rid of my smell chequer and thawsorearse.
Inspired by punctuation blog
(If you need a translation of the poem soup mail me lol)
07-03-17
I want to feel the cheer of the season;
I really, really do!
All the kids are waiting for Santa to visit,
Relishing the prospect of new gifts and joy.
Sometimes they receive them, sometimes they don’t;
Sometimes they wish the sleigh would stop by,
And Santa would drop off a small gift of delight.
Some ask for light and warmth, a little glee to share,
Wrapped in a blanket of love and giggles.
Some long to forget hunger and pain, even for just a day.
We give gifts; we choose a child in need,
And try to spread the joy of the season—
But mostly, I feel the cold and the freeze.
Just look around and see—
More kids in need, more kids in pain.
My soul feels almost empty,
But some laughter fills it up.
My heart languishes often,
Longing for the missing piece that I can’t find.
Maybe I am a villain
Who can't embrace the joy.
when the night ends, morning Sun rises,
just as the day gives way back to night,
Obvious there are no surprises!
the river runs into the ocean,
flowing down many hills and bridges,
it is an obvious conclusion!
most birds lay eggs in their tree top nests,
they all must fly there to those branches,
that’s obvious, no reason to test!
baby is born of pregnant mother,
she carries him till month advances,
obvious! we know! don’t we brother?
if gold coin drops from Eiffel tower,
crazy if you think you can find it,
that’s obvious, no need to hover!
if your wife smiles bright when home you come,
you must be prepared for expenses,
obvious for most but not for some.
a sharp arrow shot up must come down,
if lands on someone’s head they are dead!
obvious you will be talk of town!
tummy rumbles when you overeat,
to cover it you drag chair twice,
obvious, remember to smile sweet!
1st Placement
Written 18/04/2021
Just Stating the obvious poetry competition
Brother Jacob sponsored,
9 syllables each line 1,3 lines rhyme
Sometimes I think i should try,
Should spread my wings and fly
Soar through a cloud as a spirit so free
With land below, all the sights I see
Diving towards the earth below
Spread my wings out catching air causing me to slow
Leveling out and quickly shooting away barely above ground
Wind whistling as I flew, a soul unbound
Over a lake I trail fingers through crystal clear waters so cold
Feeling freedom unfold
A slight shift of wings back up so high I flew
Wings soaring damp with the morning Dew
Catching up with an eagle, together we rode the updrafts so high
My whole being was one with the sky
Back through another cloud we flew just for luck
So high we went coming to float just briefly then the wings we tuck
Falling back to earth trusting to luck
Closed my eyes free falling from the heavens I plunged gathering speed
Faster and faster I felt the need
Reaching for the feeling of fearlessly falling so free
Full of life and all that be
Then catching an updraft
Flying is a beautiful craft
I carelessly began a barrel roll
Let gravity take its toll
Across the sunlit sky
So full of the joy I did cry
Freedoms ultimate glory
Had a new story
Floating across skies so
blue
Love so true
That eagle and I racing
The sun we were pacing
Going from cloud to cloud
Heart eating so loud
A thrilling game of hide and go seek
The eagle took a peek
Screeched his good bye
Owning the sky
He went his own way
Such a beautiful day
I had spread out my wings just resting in flight
Wings glistening from the morning light
Time catches up I feel so
Free
No beautiful a sight did I ever see
Watching the set of the days sun
Just telling of the day now done
Announcing the arrival of night
With the coming of evening came the end of my glorious flight
Flying back across the evening sky
Back across the the distance that I did fly
across area I liked to play and roam
Across the empty sky to home
Back to my chair where always did sit alone
To quietly ponder all I was shown
As a recession holds a very tight grip across the land,
those who are in need look for a helping hand.
Although nobody can truly say I have it made,
I’ve been getting by with carpentry being my trade.
A good friend of mine who was unemployed at the time
was so destitute; he was about to turn to crime.
Pete was in a big boat with friends. He was not alone.
One day, he quietly asked me for a loan.
He said, “I have a great idea that can make me lots of money.
You might laugh at me thinking it is funny.
However, I am serious. Here’s what I have in mind:
A good dependable truck and boat is what I have to find.
You know that fishing has been a lifelong hobby of mine.
I have always been lucky with a fishing pole and line.
There are plenty of stores and restaurants where I can sell my fish.
Starting my own business is now my earnest wish.”
Pete had eleven friends who would help him in his ways.
With the right equipment, he could start in a few days.
I had built a modest nest egg of twenty-five grand.
Some financial security is what I had in hand.
I felt I would not be kissing that money goodbye.
Pete was a sincere friend that nobody could deny.
Pete started each day sailing out to sea.
The big catches he got were unbelievable to see.
He and his eleven buddies were raking in the cash.
There was much left over, so to the bank they made a stash.
Pete gladly paid back all the money he owed to me.
His fishing business was conducted quite successfully.
Pete said, “You are certainly a true blue friend of mine.
If you wanted to, you might turn water into wine.”
Well, that last remark seemed a big exaggeration.
I was only glad to help a friend in his new vocation.
Caedmon’s Face
by Michael R. Burch
At the monastery of Whitby,
on a day when the sun sank through the sea,
and the gulls shrieked wildly, jubilant, free,
while the wind and Time blew all around,
I paced that dusk-enamored ground
and thought I heard the steps resound
of Carroll, Stoker and good Bede
who walked here too, their spirits freed
—perhaps by God, perhaps by need—
to write, and with each line, remember
the glorious light of Caedmon’s ember:
scorched tongues of flame words still engender.
***
He wrote here in an English tongue,
a language so unlike our own,
unlike—as father unto son.
But when at last a child is grown.
his heritage is made well-known;
his father’s face becomes his own.
***
He wrote here of the Middle-Earth,
the Maker’s might, man’s lowly birth,
of every thing that God gave worth
suspended under heaven’s roof.
He forged with simple words His truth
and nine lines left remain the proof:
his face was Poetry’s, from youth.
“Cædmon’s Hymn,” composed at the Monastery of Whitby (a North Yorkshire fishing village), is one of the oldest known poems written in the English language, dating back to around 680 A.D. According to legend, Cædmon, an illiterate Anglo-Saxon cowherd, received the gift of poetic composition from an angel; he subsequently founded a school of Christian poets. Unfortunately, only nine lines of Cædmon’s verse survive, in the writings of the Venerable Bede. Whitby, tiny as it is, reappears later in the history of English literature, having been visited, in diametric contrast, by Lewis Carroll and Bram Stoker’s ghoulish yet evocative Dracula. Keywords/Tags: Caedmon, hymn, Old English, Anglo-Saxon, oldest English poem, England, Christian, spiritual, angel, poets, poetry, Whitby, Bede, Carroll, Stoker
I remember the day very well-
I wrote whats hidden within me,
my short journey to the now;
that has no anger, pity- just
acceptance . . .
Just quiet acceptance for my destiny-
my future is set in stone,
the day I wrote my poem;
I knew my path- my fate
written . . .
All the paths taken or not-
the mistakes that will fade away;
all that matters dwells within me,
money will not- cannot change a
thing . . .
I will not waste time weeping-
but find my strength and courage;
what I need resides in me,
my life may be short, but
amazing . . .
____________________________
March 7, 2017
(and that comes from within, 2015)
Verse/Treasures Within
Copyright Protected, ID 882739
The Tale Of Your Best
Phillip Garcia
First Place
Just be you.
Because you will never be another.
No one is you-er than you
and that is truer than true.
Don’t bend yourself to fit hands that were never made to hold you.
Don’t shrink to be understood by people who only speak the language of masks.
Trying to please everyone is a hard labor with no wages.
Trying to be someone else is a prison with no key.
Just be you.
Know this:
You are worthy, even on the days you feel like nothing.
You are important, even when the room forgets your name.
You are unique God broke the mold after He made you.
You are beautiful. Not just on the outside.
Deep, in the way you care.
Deep, in the way you survive.
The God who made the stars
took time and stitched you together.
Fearfully. Wonderfully.
On purpose. With fingerprints.
You are not an accident.
You are evidence.
Yes, some will try to pull you down.
Some will judge you, test you, bother you.
Let them.
Their words cannot unmake what God has spoken over you.
Be proud of the skin you’re in.
Be proud of the story that raised you.
Be proud of the breath in your lungs right now
because the most precious gift God will ever give you
is the life you’re living in this very second.
So rise.
Laugh louder.
Love softer.
Walk in the truth that no one can be you better than you.
The world doesn’t need another copy.
The world needs you.
The real you.
The unfiltered, God-made, wonderfully made YOU.
Just be you.
Because you are already enough.
And you always were.
Upon this day or night be you be encouraged my sisters my brothers Grace be unto you my beloved ones! Peace from God today from our Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ let the winds reflect.
Same mind Same judgment!Same Love
For it is Written
I will destroy the wisdom of the wise and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent for after that in the wisdom of God!
The world by wisdom knew not God it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believed!
The reason is that the foolishness of God is wiser than men and the
weakness Of God is stronger than men
For it is Written
Eyes have not seen nor have ears heard neither have it entered unto the heart of man the things God has prepared for them that love him be encouraged my beloved you ride the waves of dashed pain and hurt even when you my beloved is rejected do not worry my dearest heart you must press on through your disappointments and to your God you be true we love you and depend on the new you so be content we need you because God hath revealed them unto us by his spirit for the spirit
searcheth all things yes even the deep things of God.
My words cannot come back void!