Long Of necessity Poems
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Aching
aching deep within
reaching out beyond the veil
never forgotten
All Aboard
body and soul combine
for the ride of a lifetime –
no return tickets
Am I me
I think I am me
I think, therefore, I am me
I am me I think
Astral Womb
astral absorption
blends life continually -
soul's evolution
Bloodless Bond
born not of Mother
parent of necessity
destiny fulfilled
Coming up Trumps
sharing true friendship
noisily expelling gas
no inhibitions
Conception
blending of spirits
natures nectar decanted
life's vessel refilled
Deep Silence
deep silence roars out -
in straining to catch whispers
no one can hear it
Destiny
deep thunder rumbling
silence envelopes the land
destiny draws near
Empty Noise
dry branches snapping
summer glory now faded
still tries to impress
Eternal Moments
past, future, present
moments form eternity
time stays forever
Eternity Beckons
body discarded
spirit struggling upwards -
too late to grow wings
Eternity
union of birth
individualism
union of death
Free Spirit
thundering of hoofs
freedom’s stampede of delight -
spirit unbroken
Insight
foggy perception
clarity of direction
avenues open
Night Fright
cloud creeps across moon
night whispers it's mysteries
concealed in darkness
Pendulum of Life
living in boredom
soul screams for activity
turmoil requires rest
Pendulum’s Swing
regularity
exist in cloud cuckoo land
life's pendulum swings
Pendulum’s Ride
enjoy all the ups
enjoy the extremities
enjoy all the downs
Post Mortem
Going through the veil -
Once life’s journey is a tale
Did your faith prevail
Self Pity
beyond human sight
loved ones find eternal joy
why does my soul ache
Time for Time
life's pathways beckon
moments joined into ages
cloaked by time's mantle
Time’s Call
friends not forgotten
re-union approaches
time's pathway beckons
True Vision
though vision is clear
perception can be blinded –
truth is in the soul
Senyru:
Perception
perception
is reality
apparent
Poets Write
poets write
spilling blood as ink
makes one think
Ivor G Davies ©
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
(and felt neutral about stitching
together gainful employment)
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
Life lesson learned meant blurred line
between mendacity and truth
courtesy upbringing mommy dearest
if repeatedly drummed into me noggin
brutal honesty will bring nothing but bupkis,
or if you prefer the Yiddish spelling bobkes.
“Birth day” is the actual day one exits from the womb, (thereafter, “birthday”, is but a colloquialism for the anniversary of that birth). Well … today is mine. I’m finally old enough to drive … (times 4.56!). Now, I’m old enough to vote … (times 3.476!). One of my sons, too, this month, will become a half-century old … which makes me realize: I’m older’n dirt!
It is truly amazing: Once you reach this age, it really, truly is incomprehensible that so many years have passed since taking that first breath – because our minds don’t allow us to think we’re “aged”! Our thoughts tell us we can still lift that couch … or a 100 lb. sack of seed … or a box of twenty books. But … the actual attempt proves our minds still have their roots in the concrete of yesteryear, while our bodies are entrenched in the reality of … today, (that’s easily confirmed by a quick glance in a mirror!) Contrary to popular belief … we are NOT as “young as we feel” … and to defy reality by allowing our minds to trump our body’s limitations, when it comes to physical exertion, is courting a hospital stay – or worse.
For those of us whose physical attributes have waned, we have great difficulty in accepting the fact that we now are relegated to the task of “watching”, not “doing”. That’s the final hurdle we, of necessity, must overcome before we can truly accept … aging. Our children, whom we used to tell and guide in what they could/should do, and when … have now matured. We’ve taught them as best we could, and it is now their turn to drive the carriage – and, if we’re lucky, and don’t try to “boss” them, we may be asked to become passengers.
There comes a time when our day in the sun becomes a rocking chair in the twilight. We need to prepare ourselves to recognize that change of circumstance and situation.
It’ll be difficult for some of us … because WE’VE always been the one “in charge”. If we are to survive with our dignity intact and retain relationships with those we love … we have to find a way to hand over the reins – and MEAN it – to the next generation which we ourselves have spawned.
Our remaining decisions will be: Whether or not to re-bait that fishing hook … or what channel to watch … any decision more meaningful will need to be made by … our kids.
2022 Polar Vortex - Across Wide Band Of North America
Power outage here within
mine happy hunting grounds
(as well the ghosts of Lenni Lenape),
viz Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
December twenty third
two thousand twenty two wrought
(lasting greater part of twelve hours)
impossible mission to keep warm
generating body heat
necessity courtesy three dog night,
sure as I'm sitting here
nevertheless found yours truly
yearning for global warming
while dentures chattered
a mile a minute then jumped
out me mouth
and scrabbled, scrambled
and scratched along floor
leaving corpse like body abed
stiff as a board
dead cold analogous,
when rigor mortis
grips lovely bones
immune to brutal cold.
Ordinarily, the weather
considered non trees
son us, a neutral subject on par
with non nose
wrinkling odoriferous cheese
usually ranks as minor distraction,
without whether yours truly agrees
or not, except
during balmy temperatures,
an unavoidable tease,
whereat sub zero degrees,
whether Centigrade or Fahrenheit
demands human sacrifice
(me anima knocking knees),
no negotiating with Ole Man Winter,
he requests (lest
he continue deep freeze
maelstrom until the end of time),
nothing 'cept a healthy seas
sunned *****sapien to appease
his insatiable appetite
froze to the core,
when all body functions cease,
thus until onset of frostbite disease
transformed me into a human popsicle
obliging surrender of self,
no matter I always minded "p's"
and "q's", and adhered
to selfless decrees
not until that moment - this me's
lee sad excuse e'en for missing link,
said personal radar of this primate
suddenly went haywire madly wheeze
zing, as if giant hand (some
harried styled swiftly tailored
paw) did squeeze
traumatizing, suffocating, mangling
constricting, asphyxiating... sensation
(surprised muss elf, and all my enemies,
hence survived death as a breeze)
when similar to Socrates
ill fate found him downing hemlock,
necessitated, I reluctantly quaffed antifreeze
as preservative, plus
out of necessity to survive
being clobbered, buffeted,
assaulted...finally please
zing lee melting titanic iceberg
more bearable on par with a sneeze
than compared to frigidity
of writer's block.
I have counted her footsteps
for thirty-seven years
the same path worn
into my slope,
the same pause
at the thorny ridge
where she catches her breath
and adjusts the
weight on her spine.
Her daughters
used to follow,
small shadows
learning the art
of bending
without breaking.
Now I watch
the granddaughters
in school uniforms,
walking the paved road
that cuts through
my base,
their backs straight,
their hands carrying
books instead of
bundles.
But still she comes,
this woman
whose name
the wind whispers
Kamala, Shanta, Rukhmani,
it changes with the seasons
but the story
stays the same!
Dawn rising,
feet finding
familiar stones,
hands selecting
the dead branches
I offer
like a prayer.
The forest guard
has grown fat
on his government salary,
his radio silent now,
his eyes
finding other
thin women
to follow
with his hunger.
She knows
the sound
of his boots
on gravel,
knows which trees
to hide behind,
which paths
lead nowhere
but deeper
into his reach.
Some mornings
I want to
shift my stones,
close my paths,
keep her
in the valley
where children
wait with
empty bowls
and homework
they cannot
read.
But the wood
must be gathered.
The fire
must be lit.
The rice
must be cooked.
And I am only
a hill,
holding
the weight
of women
who climb me
like a ladder
to survival.
When the rains come
I wash away
her footprints,
but by morning
they return,
deeper now,
carved into
my memory
like a promise:
I will rise
before the sun.
I will bend
but not break.
I will carry
what must
be carried.
And when
my bones
become dust,
when development
flattens my peaks
and paves my valleys,
when shopping malls
bloom where
my forests grew
Still,
in the concrete,
someone will remember
the weight of wood,
the curve
of a spine
learning
to hold
the world.
The children
with straight backs
will teach
their children
about the women
who climbed hills
before dawn,
who made pathways
out of necessity,
who left footprints
deep enough
to follow
home.
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by, and
That has made all the difference".
The Road Not Taken. Robert Frost
We deem it normal for babies to cry when they arrive.
Perhaps it's the best indication that they are alive.
But in their minds, it seems they are issuing a protest.
Notwithstanding, it takes only a little bit of loving caress,
and, just like that, newborns succumb to affection and tenderness.
It's as if a baby accepts it by saying, "Now that I am here"....
What if we were just as adjusting when life presents us with the
unexpected? "Now that we are here" would be a calming and mature
manner of course. We will never know the difference our lives would have been or would have made had it gone just as we had planned or how we
had prepared for it to be.
Before now, I had not given much thought to what might be happening at
birth in the minds of the baby, but I believe that there is a God-designed element within us at birth that gives us an untrained instinct or hidden
desire to make adjustments when so required.
Sometimes, when we are drawn into places that are unplanned and unsuitable, or by our own intention, we have every right and a need to
protest and seek an exit. But then, there are times that we of necessity
must bow to the situation and say, "Now that we are here", let's make the best of the circumstance. Let's reevaluate and recalculate. Let's reconsider and recheck the GPS that God has given us.
"Now that we are here", who knows but what God has brought us or allowed us to enter this place, this season, this misfortune, for such a time as this?
Like newborn babies, let us indeed protest this strange turn of events. We
absolutely have been given a will, a uniqueness, and a mind of our very own.
By the same token, we must occasionally turn aside and say, "Now that we are here", what now? Now that we are here, a place we never intended to be or to go, what shall we now do? Does this way lead to my destiny? What new ideas and inspiration await us? I know whereof I speak, and I must say, mine has been quite a ride.
031923PSCtest, Now that we are here. Unseeking Seeker
How can human deal with all the other animals with a sense of indisputable superiority? What makes them keep mollycoddling the mean motive of extracting from other animals as much as possible while paying little love or care?
In their eyes, our husbandry only meets their needs for fur, yet our holocaust serves perfectly to decelerate the covid's spread. What a horrible horde of "hypochondriac" hotspurs! Hence nothing but the humanistic & humanitarian outrage's outstretch has sped!
Mauling in flagrant air, they're unscrupulous in self-warranted villainies as the ruling species. Moaning in despair, we're in no position to defend ourselves as cheaply disposable herds. Sweeping and speeding, they have a crash compensation for covid curse coming their way by commencing a cruel culling campaign over pro-peace populations. Weeping and bleeding, we're creating poignant literatures which will snivel sanguinary historicity for later generations.
Does their ferocity really mitigate their discomfiture? Let's take a glimpse at the present picture------which can't be more self-evident------ As a series of crackdowns of necessity get under way:
Large-scale lockdown, shutdown, quotidian curfew, social contact constrictions, manifold travel and transport bans continually and constantly upset human's regular hours and cadences, all walks of life lapsing into doldrums or even standstills and every sector wading strenuously in the swamp of slump, covid sets out an exclusive trip at great ease, staging a worldwide itinerant show in extravagant style, pestering human being all around the globe, tossing them into a vicious circle of "everywhere they've fled, nowhere for them to flee", taunting their knock-off caliber in comparison to a veritable calamity of public hygiene and smashing their transgressive turgidity and turpitude inexorably and mercilessly. But ironically, the more toughly the real corona of covid gets human pinched, the more tightly human gets their imaginary corona clinched, of which the title presumes to be the universe's sole supreme, in which the content, however, contributes to sciosophist's sloppy ream.
My heart will always be expecting good times
many hearts expect good times
their future lies in expectation of positive futures
there is no substance to save the soul when expectation dies
There are reasons for the break but no rationale
but love will always be here, everybody says
Isn’t love supposed to be forever?
For better or worse?
Sometimes, one wonders if this is true
yet we, the older ones, who have gone through the fires of sex hell, still had to let our ardor ferment
The question persists, do we have true love or play love?
What does it take for our love to be true love?
well, true love needs time to ferment
Like a good apple cider or a good cigar soaked in aged brandy
play love does not need anything
In that span of time, hormones will take over and go wild
and understanding love is shot to the four winds
to fester until true love grabs a hold of you
and shows the realities of what the object of true Love is
Realities that make it easier to see the truth
How much love there was at the beginning
or how much truth was there in your heart when you said I love you
then chores and responsibilities became too much to bear
and the mirages of a Hollywood romance movie evaporated
Love is forged in the fires of necessity and affection
Love also has its roots in affection and caring
Love grows strongest where the self is subjugated to your mate
It is also most powerful when one sees holiness in the home
Love is forever, that is true
but it has to be earned daily, grind by grind
it is a blessing when we appreciate our mates
and the daily burdens they endure for the family
Bliss can be had if we understand
that marriage is a commitment to a marathon
of two lives living together unknown to each other
but learning fast about life, year end and year out
True love then, is a combination of sweet odors and ingrown toenails
The good news is you will weather all marriage storms forever
if you paid attention to the real meaning of true love
and greeting it with huge smiles from lives well tried with love
and understanding ingrown toe nails.
Life shattered by the state
merciless and heavy handed...
It may seem as if a fate
threw you here to be stranded.
All alone with your sorrow,
with the grief stamped on your soul
for today and tomorrow,
with no person to console.
All alone in the crowd,
with contempt your life branding,
with your heart dressed in a shroud,
finding no understanding.
Separated from your child,
from your most dear creature,
by the beastly system wild
through a pitiless procedure.
Brutal system, unrelenting,
tearing families asunder,
a New Order it's cementing,
set to kill, destroy and plunder.
Set to throw accusations,
terror slowly fermenting,
using all manipulations,
diabolic plans inventing,
oh, the system, cruel, rotten,
causing pain excruciating,
justice in courtrooms forgotten,
truth and love obliterating!
Fabricating allegations
in the most wicked fashion,
it's installing regulations
with no place for compassion.
It's a system of witch-hunting
with perverted moralising.
Should we not be it confronting
with their ways dehumanising?
When we silently accepting,
to their methods closing eyes,
thus, we should be them expecting
more of us to tyrannize.
Wolves dressed up in gowns white,
using malice and deception,
demons in the guise of light,
say 'It's for the child's protection'.
Children, damaged by such 'care',
grow up with their pain,
often living in despair
in such incidents insane.
Mothers, feeling crucified,
parents often suicidal,
human lives sacrificed
to this beastly system's idol.
Flattening souls with steamrolling,
signs of objection hushing,
it's the matter of controlling,
any human hopes crushing.
Souls silently are screaming,
living through such nightmare.
Satan is behind such scheming,
making life more unfair.
Don't be by him spellbound,
but restore with God connection.
Oh wake up, and look around,
call on Jesus for protection!
To the suffering out-reaching,
Jesus cared without cursing.
Listen to His great teaching
of necessity for mercy!
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.