Long Not able Poems
Long Not able Poems. Below are the most popular long Not able by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Not able poems by poem length and keyword.
God is the only one to fill us
even to the fullest that can be
for our father in heaven is so great
sovereign rule is in all his capacity
The disciples learned a great lesson
when they had fished and found zero
Jesus said cast your net once again
the haul was great made Jesus their hero
This haul was of a great quantity
one that only God alone could perform
showing His power to the fullest
for this Jesus would calm any storm
God is sovereign over every situation
whether we're empty or even full
for this sovereign Lord's true to His word
being presented as the living jewel
Our Lord Jesus is the saviour
who meets us wherever we are
empty or full He will truly provide
always sovereign as our shining star
(Jesus said to them, “Children, do you have any fish?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in, because of the quantity of fish.)
John 21: 5,6 (ESV)
Afraid
Afraid of the cameras
Of the mirrors
And the voice in my head
Fat
Ugly
Not able to fit in
The mould
Into the slim fit clothes
Loud
Annoying
Confidence - a mask I wear
Over the self doubt and insecurities
Unlovable
Unworthy
Of your love
Which is a lie out of your mouth
I feel like you’re looking for a way out
Out of my life
Embarrassing
Unwanted
Unwanted in conversation
Because of how I ruin it
Self centred
Selfish
A protection against the truth
Present a strong front
And they can’t get behind your walls
Into your doubt
Childish
Immature
Jokes that aren’t funny
Can’t be trusted
Just a bit too much
If only I felt worthy
Worthy of love
Of friends
Worthy enough to be myself
To feel confident
If only I could quiet
The voice in my head
Does your back end waddle like a duck?
Does your rear sway from side to side?
Is there a huge rumbling when sitting down
With large ripples in your hide?
Perhaps it's that second piece of apple pie
Or that box of chocolates you consumed
At times I see you down a large size pizza
Without taking a breath until June!
There is a cure for this age old problem
It's called pushing away from the table
But it sure takes a lot of intestinal fortitude
For some of us we're just not able!
Do you ever get really discouraged
And think perhaps you're losing your mind
You're definitely in the majority today
The country's sliding in the brine!
There's still hope for all us tubby people
But we really must try to persevere
Forego that second large piece of apple pie
And a trimmer you will appear!
All I ask is a little love,
All I ask is a little time with you,
I know you hate me to the core,
I know you don’t love me anymore,
But why can’t I understand that,
Why am I not able to sleep at nights,
You are the only one in my dreams,
I couldn’t stop thinking about you,
Sometimes I cry,
Sometimes I sleep in the day,
I wake up and you were not there,
No text from you,
I know you will be happy without me,
I wish for you to make new friends,
Make new relations,
Create strong memories so it makes you forget me,
And on the day you are getting married,
I only wish you both a huge congratulations,
I know you will be happy and smiling,
I pray for your vows to be true,
I know for sure that it won’t be me,
And it is a good thing,
I’m a stupid, I made you cry,
I hope the other one isn’t like me but better than me,
I wish it was me but no,
.......
I miss you.
Many of you have been so nice
with comments of sugar and spice
but someone last night was a bit riled
and chastised me as though I were a little child
Treated me like a school girl, sent to a 'safe space'
wanting me to dance at his words; a ballerina in lace
or a puppet on his string.
Well, I did no such thing!
This dancer will never submit to any man's demand
He's an ostrich whose big head is buried in sand
He seems to be another glitch in the PS system
They need a tech who knows how to fix 'em.
I heard some people like to cause trouble
I don't take orders from Mr. Rubble
and I won't run scared of that guy
no matter how hard he may try.
Well, now I have yet another poet telling me I shouldn't get into an argument with someone over something that didn't concern me. Are we not able to comment on a poet's poem without being attacked by another? And isn't this new person getting involved over something that does not concern him? What kind of poetry site is this?
‘I was born with the meaning of home running through my veins.’ Lauren Eden
inside the back door of our house our laughter rang out
as we sat chit-chatting around the kitchen table
playing board games or telling silly stories
upstairs at night we giggled in our bedroom
snacking on treats we had sneaked into our room
when dad would yell up the stairs at us to go to sleep
not able to quell youthful exuberance
for we had ties bound by a forever sisterhood
born by fate – I don't know
but molded nevertheless by our time together
secrets whispered in the dark
and heartaches assuaged sympathetically
fighting at a minimum
the place where today
though it be no more a building made of brick
is but a phone call away
A cage not of your making
your own expiration date
Your mother branded you with it
and made you wear it even to date
It was announced at family dinners
with strangers in the room
It was told to every family friend
of my own impending doom
How it made me feel was not considered
not given a meager thought
She just had to get that out there
because it was important and fraught
And then when I grew older and objected
she did it on the sly
Took aside my companions
and injected them with her sick dye
I was told I should never have children
I was told I should avoid many things in life
She colored my world and put me in box
and invaded my personal space causing strife
Till I ran away across several states
and she came to fetch me back
And then there was a kind of truce
as she knew I could leave and be free
And I also knew it, so I worked at emancipating me
So she instead worked on my boyfriends filling them full of lies
And I stopped bringing anyone home
and I lived completely outside
And I started a professional life and never again did the two meet
and she was not able to control my life again nor even make a peep
and then I had some peace.
The kicker? I was not sick, she was, but I was too young to know.
Artimus 9/23/23 9:25AM (C) Susan Manley
Fridged temperatures bite at exposed skin,
Icy cold winds pull and tug on coats, looking for a way in.
Naked trees expose their frozen bark,
It has arrived and leaves a snowy mark.
Silence deafens the ear as nothing stirs to make a sound,
Bark clad skeletons stand all around.
Seas of white are often found,
Where blades of grass and flowers once covered the ground.
Heavy snowfall filters sunlight to cast a temporary hue,
As ice crystals divert wavelengths creating a landscape with a hint of blue.
As the snow falls, it builds on the ground,
Wrapping the terrain in a blanket of ice all around.
Snowfall clings to branches with an icy grip,
Holding steadfast where leaves have been stripped.
Frozen moisture rides the wind and dances in the air,
Creatures sense it coming and are keenly aware.
Animals are hiding to escape its wrath,
A semi-lifeless landscape is the aftermath.
Formidable and nearly uninhabitable as it may be,
Reptiles and amphibians hide underground, waiting to be set free.
Birds go into hiding or shelter in place,
Not able to fly with style and grace.
They fluff their feathers to keep warm,
A puffed-up pose is their sheltering form.
Mammals burrow underground or nest in trees,
They seldom venture into this environment to risk hypothermia or freeze.
At the solstice it is at its peak,
Days of warmth seem most distant and bleak.
From this point forward, it starts to decay,
Though still distant, Spring is on its way.
Days grow longer and nighttime starts to diminish,
Circadian rhythms change, waiting for it to finish.
What once was frozen begins to thaw,
And from their icy tombs, creatures begin to withdraw.
More sunshine and rising temperatures are the kicker,
When animals emerge from surviving another Winter.
A face of age, a septuagenarian that magically reverts to my twenties when I turn away from the mirror.
My hair of silver does what it pleases to cover my face. I can't move one side of my face, a condition they call Bell's Palsy. Flirty, half fallen, silky gray hair that helps me cover the one side. My forehead smooths out from the left and slight creases on the right. My eyebrows are small; a student describing them like commas.
When I was younger, my large brown eyes and long dark lashes were the focal point of my face.
As the years moved on, erosion has chosen to leave me with bloodshot eyes; one normal the other droopy and dry as the sands of the Sahara Desert whether from the constant irritation or the countless sleepless night.
I've always had a round face with freckles and a small turned-up nose that is a beacon of shine if it's not powdered. I am very fortunate, I have no wrinkles around my eyes, but two smile lines that crinkle on either side of my nose.
My lips are not like a lot of women, plump, I inherited my father's small thin lips. As a teen, I would gloomily glare in the mirror hating the way they looked. My teeth are not quite perfect, but I might remind you of a chipmunk. They're not noticeable since I am not able to smile. If I don't, I look very normal, but a look of scowling.
A face of age yet beautiful.
12/26/2019
Poetry Contest: The Metaphor Of Your Face
Sponsored BY: John Lawless
Propaganda
It is a cold day, no more sitting on the terrace
watching ships sailing by and dreaming of the old days.
With little to do, I watched on Netflix about the making of the Nazi party.
Time was hard in Germany people were looking for a saviour
Hitler and his henchmen came.
Sig Heil.
Peoples’ stupidity never amazes me, believed the propaganda
the promises of a better time.
Millions followed him, this man without charisma, but he promised
to make the country great and the people unthinkably followed
to the bitter end.
71, million people in the USA voted for Trump his lies didn´t matter
people preferred lies even when confronted with the truth
they still believe he could lead them into a great America.
Now we have Biden.
The new president has promised many sane things, yet he
is regarded as weak
He lacks the panache of the liar.
And he, being a member of the political establishment, is not able to cut
the head of the snake
because he is a part of what is wrong with America.
Only groundbreaking revolution of what ails the USA, but it must
come from the people and not highjacked by oratory charlatan, can remedy
this sickness of the soul.
No single person is a god;
we have to turn to the Christian faith, with all its fault finding
the compass to rectitude.