Long Neglects Poems
Long Neglects Poems. Below are the most popular long Neglects by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Neglects poems by poem length and keyword.
Oratio, precaria, prayer
is how we, our petitions share,
with the God, we adore and love,
who sent us His Son from above.
Prayer is not a way to get
the things o'er which we fret and sweat.
God is not a vending machine
dispensing what we wish to glean.
Prayer involves a connection
with God, that’s not very hi-tech.
Without this close relationship,
one cannot effectively pray.
When we know God, as a true friend,
His will and our desires blend.
As our prayers to Him ascend,
His answers as blessings descend.
God’s promises lift our prayers,
like wings they, our petitions bear.
Then our benevolent Father
unto us His good gifts proffer.
Prayer is like breath to the soul.
it sustains, revives, and makes us whole.
The Christian who neglects to pray
will lose their way and from God stray.
Prayer the mouths of lions shut,
from heaven’s book sin's records blot.
It causes crop yields to increase,
and showers of blessings to cease.
Prayer can cause the dead to walk,
unloose tied tongues and make them talk.
Prayer can cause the blind to see,
heal begging man with crippled knee.
Prayer can bind a broken heart
and cause a raging sea to part.
It takes us through tough trials sore
heartaches, great grief, and so much more.
Take time each day to pause and pray,
God’s promises to him replay.
Whatever else you do or say,
be sure to thank God for today.
CURSE ME POOR OR POORER
WOMAN
I GOTTA HAVE YOU
SOMETHING SPECAIL
SOMETHING
RIGHT AND TRUE
LOOK AT YOU WALKING
WHEN YOU JUST STANDING THEIR
SOMETHING MAKES ME WANNA
BE WITH YOU
LET ME SHOW YOU HOW I CARE
SUMTHANG AINT RIGHT
WITH YOU AND YOUR MAN
SUMTHANG STRANGE IN THAT
RELATIONSHIP
LET ME BE THE ONE TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT
I WANNA BE THE ONE
WHEN HE AINT THEIR FOR YOU
WHEN HE NEGLECTS
AND REFUSES TO CARE FOR YOU
LET ME BE THE ONE
I GOTTA BE THE ONE
THE ONLY ONE
LET ME BE
I JUST GOTTA BE
I JUST GOTTA BE
ONE OF MY FREINDS WAS ASKED ONE TIME HOW I WAS DOING
HE TOLD THE GENTLEMEN WHO ASKED HIM
I GUESS I WAS DOING FINE
HE TOLD HIM I HAD BEEN SEEING A NEW WOMAN
AND SPENDING A LOT OF MY TIME
THE FELLA TOLD ME THAT
HE ALSO MENTIONED
HE THOUGHT I WAS FOOLISH TO
BE INVOLVED WITH SUMONE WHO COULD NEVER BEEN MINE
I WAS WASTING MY TIME
AND LOSING FREINDS
I TOLD THE GENTLEMEN IN THESE WORDS
WHAT A FREIND IF
THEY CAN'T FIND AWAY TO
UNDERSTAND YOU OR THEY CAN'T FIND AWAY TO SAY WHAT
THEY REALLY FEEL
I TOLD THE MAN HE WAS JEALOUS AND ALL THOSE WHO OPPOSSED MY LOVE
FOR THIS WOMAN WAS JEALOUS
I AM IN LOVE
AND I LOVE THE WOMAN
IN THIS CONCERN
Pillow thoughts cloud my mind
Is life meant to be solo?
No matter who you surround yourself with-
You’re sure to feel alone
Feel the cold
the damp cold floor,
This thing we called life-
It’s a scam
If I could rewrite every chapter, every page,
I would.
I would for my own sanity.
The truth is;
Life neglects all things-
We’re all born to die
and yet
We run around keeping busy,
Staying distracted from our fate
No one makes it out alive-
So why do stresses define us
It’s a sick joke,
Something so obvious it stings-
Like a spider bite.
The itch that never really goes away-
Whether it’s the placebo effect
Or the reminder that we are all equals.
We are all ending up buried in the earth
We are only destined to live and die-
Our obsessions we call stress
And inconsistent believes-
Are only going to drive us one way, one direction
A mother struggling through daily burdens
Raises her son to be studious and intelligent
Without any funds for his higher education
When strangers raise enough to pay his tuition.
When a boy in poverty becomes an orphan
And sorrow triumphs with reckless abandon
Evaporating all options with nowhere to turn,
Adoptive-parents take him to a loving home.
A war-zone stricken with death and destruction
Neglects its injured in merciless environment
Till esteemed doctors arrive risking own lives
To care for wounded, volunteering their time.
When a natural disaster ravages entire island
And millions are left without food and water,
A volunteer chef sets up a make-shift kitchen
Feeding millions on the strength of his passion.
Random acts arising from selfless ebullience
Shine a guiding light of heavenly compassion
Delivering against odds with gallant resilience
Exemplifying valiance of strangers in action.
March 2, 2018
“Isaiah 5:20
King James Version
20 Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”
God is not the author of confusion
His grace His mercy not an illusion
He is the rock upon solid ground
Where one who is lost can be found
Beware of the world and it’s slippery slopes
False gods like fast cars offering spiritual dope
That feels good to the flesh yet neglects soul
I’d rather have Jesus than silver and gold
Fear God almighty that you live right
That you do good deeds in this life
No trickery putting bitter for sweet
What’s done in dark all will someday see
Woe to them calling evil good and good evil
Wages of sin are death like times mid evil
For man shall not live by bread alone
But by word of God who sits on throne
WHAT ADDICTION IS
Addiction, a brain disease, the inability to control
use of a substance, like nicotine, drugs, alcohol.
It can also be a behavioral problem, like gambling,
eating, sex, kleptomania, shopping, working.
Addiction takes over one’s self-control causing
psychological and physical harm by continuously using
the substance or indulging in addictive behavior, ruining
lives, families, relationships, careers for neglecting
health, family, friends, work and other responsibilities
in exchange for feelings of lift, physically high or lofty.
Addiction can also be caused by the environment,
like growing up with smoking, drinking or using parents,
or the cultural norms of the society or group where
one lives or exposure to peer group pressure anywhere.
I will never really know the mind of an addict.
All I could do was researched how the addict
feels and neglects everything and to understand
and cope with an addict or how to take my stand
in living with an alcoholic and be a supporter
to kick the addiction and not be an enabler.
Living with an addict is hard, difficult, tough, strenuous.
There is uncertainty, unpredictability, life is precarious.
It’s like living a double life, one day everything is fine,
then everything is like walking in a very fine line.
Life is a vicious cycle, there is normalcy when sober
for being responsible, reliable and good mannered
and then the slip or binging comes affecting judgments;
neglecting family, work, commitments; being overindulgent
with the substance that can lead to financial difficulty
if under the influence or in possession, as well as legally.
Addiction can be prevented, treated and managed.
Do not let addiction ruin, ravage, wreck or damage
your life, your career, your relationship or your family.
Consider treatments that can help tremendously.
You are not the only one affected by your addiction,
for the ones, who love you suffer from your affliction.
Addiction Poetry Rob Levasseur
12/27/20
Privatized profits and Socialized losses.
Private eyes focus and vocalize pockets.
Undeclared prophets bite their tongues until they soften
Globalized problems begin to mimic taunts and pauses
As we become lost in a certainty, assured no longer can any one find that pulsing silence.
Melodies bear flaws as they become written for horrid audiences.
Regardless
we still retain a will to want 'It.'
Generations rising towards becoming accosted
By a worlds cause to see the vintage become an inherent endowment
within a paradigm of where the old are deprived of practicality through a rougher polish.
Everyone wants to shine but no person would prefer to condition to perish, rather have luck grant a pardon.
Desiring to speak through words of honor and the honest,
hints denote of soldering bonds to new forms of defiance and reliance.
Fighting the fake with supplies of the same.
Subliminally sublime saturated shame.
How long did it take for you to find yourself as a target?
Had it been near when forgiveness became earned
But forgotten on how to be given?
Had we been overlooking time as the companion,
Misplacing the mnemonics;
The right reminders
That once helped us separate
What's left behind, what's significant
And of which are alike.
Memory neglects of how we were taught this.
The current cannot cease to be,
So although every tomorrow may never be promised to seed today and creating yesterdays on which to think,
Retain your grip onto what leaves
Bolden the show you play for the world to see;
The unpromising tomorrow is said to be coming
And i cannot find a reason with worth to begin to disagree
Yesterday can not ever come back;
Oh grief pairs so well with lucidity
Welcome back to Today,
Sometimes I find it hard to see
Bring on dismay,
I wonder what pairing I'll find for there to be
A mountain of some measure aligned slopes,
Silversword's statuesque uncommonness,
bikers and skiers, youth urban slang, 'dopes,'
pics of height's flowering tower upness.
Centuries of swordplay, The Word, acclaimed,
plowshares and the sorts treats its new version.
Purplish flowers are structurally framed,
like a cross handle, silver hairs orphan.
Majestic still today, handle to point,
Jehovah's watchtower, grand edifice
leans to age and weather. Volcano joint
Maui's 'House of the Sun' sole home exists.
Another species bides the intellects,
nature goes on living with the ... neglects.
A car rolls into a soundless night,
It's light sends a bursting view of overhanging growth,
In a microcosm succession of descending seconds,
Pruned for a snapshot temporal existence,
Till all is rendered back to the void of night.
Sounds of rolling wakes the void,
'Tis but a wheel cover errant for intimacy,
The road approves its adoption,
As it settles amongst other roadside neglects,
Earth's orphans coexisting under new sun's and periodical moon's.
Dull chrome insulted by grey matter and passing ignorance,
Melts in a blink of an eon as inherent elements being nursed,
A rebirth phenomenon after being ripped from its womb,
As meddling minds, carve out canyons and canvases felled trees,
Sculpture mountains, etch on charcoal skies, paint from oiled oceans,
All from a dark planet behind concealed metal mask and chromed artificial air tanks,
That all were at one time...
...an errant orphaned wheel cover.
At water’s edge, this rocky chasm shore.
I am Belisama, numen of lakes and rivers,
or sometimes Brigit of mystic phasm lore.
I am the brightest one, the fiery one who delivers.
To the Romans I am Minerva of wisdom and poetry.
The Christians rebrand me Saint Brigit Kildare.
But it’s my magic Celtic roots that make me visionary.
In each sheeny silver sliver of being, I am there.
Like the Prince of Peace, I am invoked for war.
Warriors gain strength from me on the battlefield.
But my origins betray the bellicose fervor,
my mindful still water core is always unsealed.
The modern multitask brain neglects the lyrical,
but hippocampus allusion recalls the metaphysical.