Long Of value Poems
Long Of value Poems. Below are the most popular long Of value by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Of value poems by poem length and keyword.
Got a DVD of the Honeymooners
And one of the Old Jack Benny Show
Watched The Quiet Man with John Wayne
Where did all the morals go
Violence and garbage all over the TV
Violence and garbage on the news too
Nothing of value anymore
They don’t make them like they use to
Got in my car and noticed the similarities
Most of the cars look the same
Thought about my 56 Bel Air
Driving was a different game
All the models had their own style
AM radio that we’d cruise to
Something special under the hood
They don’t build them like they use to
Thought about my old high school
Attending pep rallies before the big one
Everyone showed up to cheer
Every body having fun
There were rules we had to follow
We couldn’t do whatever we choose to
School was different in those days
They don’t teach them like they use to
I see neighbors building higher fences
Live next door and don’t know each other
We lived in an ally full of kids
Treated each like a sister or brother
Neighbors visited without knocking
Never needed an excuse to
Just drop in to shoot the breeze
They don’t have neighbors like they use to.
What is Being Ahead in Life?
Being ahead in life is a lot of people’s goal
A path that is easy for some and hard for others
Others are born to it, and does well
Some does not and they all have drama
These are people who struggle in Life
But drama I speak of is not just drama
This Aspect that carries your will without will
What is being ahead in life?
The question is so unrevealing it can go on
But this is what life is all about going on
Without fake feelings or bad negotiation
The value exists not of value it is all not objects
It is a story within a story, Life is all about stories
What to not read and what to read
When you can read and when you can accept
The belief of virtue with others would be
What is being ahead in life?
Being notice that you exist is what I rather have
Not money nor fame, I am what I am
Life goes on and values change but do you
To be in such hurry to gain the respect of others
Is so flaw in so many ways, those feelings you accept
Is tarnish and fake, what life do you think you lead
Never been reached, because you cannot reach it by objects
The question again is this
What is being ahead in life?
If you can answer this true, with no stutter, lies, or fake stories
Then you are ahead in life, because you do not fear it
The journey to believe in you and choices
The journey that belongs to you with out walking away from it
The journey becomes your destiny
The journey you meet people who has the same goal
The journey to get in life is a question that you do not want to answer
This is why this question is the way it is
What is being ahead of life?
Being is you
Ahead is what you see
Life is the spirit that you are
What? Is the question
Of is what are we made of
Is the present
Any of these tell you that you need something to take to your after life?
There once lived a young man, his wife, daughter, and two sons.
One year, Christmas along with the money had come and gone.
It was now the first workday after the Christmas holiday.
Early that morning, the father discovered that he did not have
sufficient funds for his workday. He was forced to turn his attention to his two sons who were still fast asleep.
So he awakened his older son who was fifteen and asked if he had any money. The older son replied, “Yes dad, but not on me; I have to look for the money I have”. The dad did not have time for the son to go gold-digging.
The dad then turned to the upper bunk of his younger son who was eleven, asking him the same question. In spite of being awakened from a deep sleep, replying immediately, his son said, “Yes dad. Take my book from the table and turn to page 65.” The dad, with a surprising smile, looked toward his older son who was struck with the same emotions. They were both rather amused. The dad took the book, turned to page 65, and found sufficient funds to take him through the day.
Although Christmas had taken its toll on the family budget, the dad was amazed and delighted over his younger son’s ‘book report’. In addition, he had learned a treasured lesson about his sons. Also, he had pleasantly discovered that words are not the only items of value to be found between the pages of a book.
10062016PoSp
(My Persian rug, 2024)
A Painful Journey
I live a quiet and isolated life
But it’s been one of great adventure
That leaves me now a bit worn out
Although satisfied and fulfilled
Is probably how I should describe it,
For I’m happy with its twists and turns
Even though I know deep down
Before I can even remember
There is a loss that has flavored everything since
Leaving it’s triggers below the surface
Like an old thorn or splinter
Now part of me, unable to extract.
Today I received an old Persian rug
Remarkable in so many ways
From design and execution
To quality of wool and dyes
And it’s even more subtle and poignant story.
Taken from Vienna during the 30’s
As a valued possession small enough
To make the passage to America,
At a time when so much was left behind
And at least something needed to remain
To connect an uncertain future
With a past that could never be again,
It spoke to me
Through my eyes and fingers
Unconsciously taking in the markers of value
Of all those delicate knots, tied so long before
So far away
Each holding their own story
A million fibers
Absorbing all the years between
To make it to my doorstep
A long adventurous and painful journey
Like a handful of gems
Sewn into the hem of an old man’s coat
Across the seas, out of one context
Into another and then another
Sustaining something unmentionable
Yet not forgotten.
To land at last in my hands
And touch me like a shadow
Of a journey I have also known
Touched and changed
Broken and made whole again
Over and over
Life after life
Name after name
A story, the same old story,
We all know
In the secret private space of our hearts.
The beauty of Life
Is how it connects
And how even when we feel it isn’t
It can never ever disconnect.
Rugs in all their useful beauty
Show us this
Inviting us to lay and feel
Something that needs no words
To complete.
(11/21/24)
The future wore a Sandwich Board and walked down my life's street
day after day in the vain hope that one day we would meet.
Upon the board were words it wrote should I look up ahead,
the title read ' PLEASE STOP AND READ, FOR YOU'RE A LONG TIME DEAD'.
'Your youth is not the Universe, you centre of it all,
there's only room for your desires within that selfish ball,
beyond it lie the things of value, stretching into space,
open your eyes and see them, for they stare you in the face.
Those two who gave you gift of life, from that first tiny seed
now fade and wither in return, more help from you they need.
Take time, give thought, give love and deed for soon, as you will see
their preordained time manifests, and hence they walk with me'.
The Sandwich board passed by me on my journeys every day,
my focus on the here and now meant I stepped out the way
until the day I sat in black and then I could afford
to spend some time wondering what was on that Sandwich board.
For contest 'Regret', sponsor Frank Herrera
the gulf circle is where
brown pelicans dive for their
dinner over the heads
of the hungry masculine
wood storks looking men
swarming in schools like shark
preying on beautiful elderly women
for they jewels life savings retirements
pensions property and real estate
anything he deems of value
wearing khakis by day tropical
shirts baring parrots coconuts
both hands in their sunken empty
pockets scouring dreams and life
savings of grandmothers and somebody's
aunts strolling along the antique shops
thrift shops following artists writers
thrive awaiting a time to dive his prey
shoulders raised and back knees knocked
feet flat turned outward over canvas
looking penny loafers he smells of cheap
hair tonic his eyes lock beneath dark
sunglasses while the woman approaches
big straw hat beach bag retired poet
brilliant writer removing her own book
she took years to write the pink flamingo
sings a warning for all ladies sunbathing
to watch out run for cover while his knees
pop and stretch backwards he opens
his long beak of a nose and grunts
he raises the longest arms unusually thin
smooth fingers as if he never lifted not one
of them to work ever he snatches the old
woman book spilling her pink grapefruit
juice grabbing her change purse retrieving
her coin collection finally the last coin falls
a very rare Abraham Lincoln penny he picks
it up the woman cries contadino contadino
he mumbles quickly removes one
of his tattered and warn penny loafer
places the rare coin inside his shoes
strolls along simply singing the blues
He says. "Never say, I can't."
"Why on Earth not meet defeat
admit you're seldom right.
Saying you CAN is vanity
and looking for a fight."
He says. "Don't look back on failure ..."
"Dwell on failure is what I say
thank failure with a smile!
A learning tool is what it is
to shorten your next mile."
"Good results are scant." He says.
"Oh goodness," she says. "Where are you looking?"
Don't you breathe the air with roses blooming
and eat your fine wife's lucious cooking."
"Taste life's gifts," she says. "Don't focus on doom."
He says. "But, praise is less than complaint!"
"Enjoy the ACTION she says, not the "at-a-boy!'
it is YOU who decides what's of value to YOU
and how to feel about every judgment deployed.
Your opinion of self is what you should pursue."
"Embrace the TRUTH with stoic composure." He says.
"The truth...which truth is that?"
"Laugh," I say, "in the face of those
to those opposed, tip your hat.
Revealations comes with growth!
He says. "Be rawhide tough and BULLDOG mean."
"Oh God, what men don't do?
Be sweet, be soft be kind I say
and like returns to you
for your soul you've not betrayed."
"Defeat," he says, "has no place in your repertoire ..."
Now here, she says, "it's not defeat to wish upon a star...."
Poets: Charles Henderson & Debbie Guzzi
English onomatopoeic words tick tock does punctuate...
audiological "second" associated with ordinary soundlessness
Second of time not decided arbitrarily, but...
Under International System of Units,
the second currently defined as
duration of 9,192,631,770 periods
of radiation corresponding to transition
between two hyperfine
levels of ground
state of caesium-133
atom at temperature
of 0 degrees Kelvin.
Even if deaf and/or
blind Impossible Mission
to escape incessant
atomic elementary coalition
my dear Watson,
through rigorous erudition
pursuant, predicated,
postulated, plotted, pinpointed...,
whereby basic interval
of time engineered fruition
jarring inquisitiveness regarding
yours truly intuition
one body moving thru space
and time till manumision.
Upon mortality liberation comprising me
molecular constituent parts will thus free
repurposing (reincarnation higglety pigglety)
without preserving jammed consciousness, ye
might beg to differ,
yet that precept re:
guarding retaining awareness
previous life thee
less prominent poetic
intent to squander ably
(slight bias, I aver)
precious minutes agree
gated intuiting the
invisibility of ethereal me:
deem (or quantification
thereof) measuring je
nais sais quois (extent
of French words known
to yours truly), whose
lofty ambition key
ying focus, how
every moment allocated
into base unit to run
of the mill by the floss see
George Eliot (Mary
Ann Evans) garden variety,
generic *****sapien,
(no matter differentiation sets E
shove us apart).
Inescapable maddening
march to maximize
potential choice to exercise
fulfillment, or nurse regret
case in point I surmise
extensive disappointment,
though Matthew Scott tries
to separate the figurative
wheat from the chaff and vies
to distill some semblance
of value, cuz he doth realize,
how tempus fugit defies
longing to go back
to the future as he espies
countless reasons that qualifies
as his life left unlived no surprise
since aforementioned sentiment
mentioned, in tandem with
self destructive behavior I despise.
I slipped on a teardrop and landed deep inside a pond,
After which I understood where all those teardrops do abscond;
The pond was huge and salty with tears of all kinds,
Some of little babies and some of lonely minds;
Some were of silly people crying in front of TV sets,
While there were other tears of loss and true regret;
I swam and swam around till I was drenched in all those tears,
It was then I saw those pearl drops of value very dear;
A lady's tears flowing freely for that lost son and his ways,
Another man's crystal cries, seeking for his friend, God's grace;
Teardrops are a part of life and sometimes deemed necessary,
But in that pond, the best, I'm sure, are those tears intercessory;
I slipped on a teardrop and landed deep inside a pond,
And believe it or not, there I learnt they have a life beyond.
{Psalm 56:8 - Thou(God) tellest my wanderings: put Thou my tears into Thy bottle: are they not in Thy book?}
This phrase "tomorrow" I've heard and heard
Yet no one dares bother to manage the word
Thus, I try to imagine as day nears the reach
That love is a timeless and immortal breach ...
This phrase "tomorrow" that tenders your lips
Is meant to sink sanity, saviors ... and ships
For nothing of value and nothing that lasts
Is quite as unreachable, (save for the past)
I'm chasing that phantom, Tomorrow, today
I see its dark shadow but its face turns away
I'm chasing that phantom, Tomorrow, today
For when I get there
I'll drown my despair
And no longer care ...
That you said you'd love me tomorrow ... today
This phrase "tomorrow" that trembles the night
Will thieve "here and now" of its precious delight
For only this moment is worth our sweet breath
Each blessed inhalation, just one short of death
This phrase "tomorrow", you promised to me
Is as deep as the heavens, as black as the sea
But if not for you, I'm as empty as both ...
If not for you, I'm as gone as its ghost ...
I'm chasing that phantom, Tomorrow, today
I see its dark shadow but its face turns away
I'm chasing that phantom, Tomorrow, today
For when I get there
I'll drown my despair
And no longer care ...
That you said you'd love me tomorrow ... today
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Tomorrow" Poetry Contest, Edward Ibeh, Judge & Sponsor.