Long On the whole Poems
Long On the whole Poems. Below are the most popular long On the whole by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long On the whole poems by poem length and keyword.
Thomas Hood said he recalled the house where he was born
He would not recognise it now, its structure is long gone
But as for me, and where I’m from, the house still stands today
Although my family home no more, I fear to pass that way
Time moves on and people change, I know that to be true
But memories from those four walls, they stick to me like glue
The garden toys, the trees to climb, the rickety lean to
The things that made me who I am, they echo through and through
We had our ups and downs, we did, what family does not
But on the whole we lived and laughed and read an awful lot
And after many years had passed, it came so clear to me
The things they went without for us, the things they made us see
I like to think I’m kind and fair, I try to do my best
Though never have I really had to put it to the test
So where I’m from, I have to say, the answer lies within
A drop of this, a pinch of that, mixed up inside my skin
And if anybody says to me, “who do you think you are?”
I’ll say who made me what I am and thank my lucky stars
I went to this new world
They knew not what to think
It became clear, It unfurled
Once understood it curled
As a guest I'd get a decision
Then they said I was a prisoner
A prisoner gets no vision
For you are locked in our prison
Locked in a glass cage
For amusement I imagine
I did not display my age
Only demonstrations of rage
Watching all, Biding my time
I'm getting outa here
Quietly sitting, Could embarrass a mime
Gonna show them moves from my prime
Opened the portal to give me food
Your mistake, I MEAN it!
I let loose on the whole brood
I'd tell you the rest but I'm to rude!
Today and onward...
Soldier of Christ,
there is a great fight ahead of you:
Daily praying for others, leading them to God,
discipling them conscientiously;
Helping the prodigal children go back to the Father,
encouraging the wounded to endure holy battles...
Hence, always and daily...
Put on the whole armour of God.*
You are that Christian warrior
of the spiritually-armed forces of the Supreme Commander
mandated to wrestle "not against flesh and blood
but against rulers of the darkness of this world in high places."
Thus, today and constantly...
Put on the whole armour of God.
As commissioned to be strong in the Lord,
fight the good fight of faith
empowered by the might of Christ,
not as one that beats the air...
advancing His kingdom
populating heaven
vanquishing hell's gates.
Therefore today and everyday...
Put on the whole armour of God.
*Ephesians 6:11 "Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."
Ephesians 6:12 "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."
February 19, 2019
In the beginning there was me
and in the end, there will still be me.
I'm not using 'me' in a personal sense
you understand,
my 'me' is singular, and there was nothing before it
or after it.
Come right in, I have warmed the bed for you.
Here is a chair I made out of straw
from a donkey's stable,
yes, it does smell of donkey shat, and it always will.
This is the kitchen it is a fine place
to eat standing up.
Yes, the bed has no bugs. Sleep.
Now that we understand this matter of 'me'
allow me to kiss your eyes
for they have seen much, and it has been,
on the whole, only me that you saw.
There's no need to apologize for being so distant,
your life has been my own messy living space.
We shared the same place and time,
and the bumps and bruises were me myself
bumping and bruising.
Let's fight-kill- have as much sex
as we can before we recognize
that we are doing it for me.
You have kept the fire going, sat with me
as we turned into one flame. Poetry saved us
it gave us this voice that drives folks crazy
trying to figure out
what the hell we are saying.
Feel free to talk on - talk your head off,
it's my wagging tongue that chatters
in your mouth
anyway.
Oh, my lady dance for me
In liberty free
Float on the floor
In erythematic rhythms the world adores
Let thy silhouette amber glee
Rays of glamour shine on the whole
Dance for me
In freedom and liberty
Effortlessly
Move ever so majestically
Let the people sway
As you move their way
Oh, my lady dance for me
Entice me with your foot steps
Caress us with your movements
Set up free
Dance with me
As you dance on the floor
The dress you wear flows like flag in the wind on a pole
Carmelita dancing free
And dancing all you want to be
It's like your dancing on air
My Senorita
You dazzle me dancing free
You flow ever so brilliantly
Please, please dance for me
Carmelita
The Solar Spring is breathtaking sending out itself everywhere
a sense of renewal is arising, growing, budding, and blooming.
The groundbreaking is taxing the granules of rich earthen sod
as new life seeks out the world above and the waiting wonder.
Aurorean presence breaks dawn light relishing the early share
as morning spreads the atmosphere rummaging goes on below.
Snowdrops pierce a melting frost and Sweet Alyssum edges on
the blossoms of mostly white and hints of green drooping down
Further onwards the tiny flowerets of Alyssum's scent air swell
and in the rears just above ground in striking colors are pansies.
The grand boulevard of a bustling town a ways from the hey-day
as an array of color-filled flowers like Daffodils being light in color.
There are bold blue-colored Bluebonnet stems standing in rows
and immediate to them are purple Sunflowers, --they're purplish.
Scattered about is a display of different hues of tall Spider Lillies
on the whole, I'm impressed with our tiny town's achievements.
I can say that with a measure of certainty that memories serve of
Bath, Maine circa 1970 + a dog after a chicken + a town after a dog.
No principality shall stand,
for God is ruler of this land.
Lord help us root for all that's right,
as we wrestle, each day and night.
Humble thyself before the Lord,
lay down your weapons at thy door.
Put on the whole armour of God,
stand firm in Christ, against all odds.
Buckle thy belt upon thy waist,
it shall be truth, that you sayeth.
Place thy great, righteous breastplate on,
and shoes of peace to walk there-on
Pick up thy shield of faith with pride,
boast only in the Lord, our guide.
Take Salvation's helmet of hope,
and Spirit's sword, the Word of love.
And now complete with armour on,
go forth my friends, disciple on!
And have no fear, be not dismayed,
for Jesus Christ, our ransom paid.
02.28.2024
Do you remember the time when just a flickof skirt
Would cause such a reaction that it very nearly hurt
But a carefully folded overcoat avoided any fuss
As you walked down stairs from the old school bus
Embarrassed
Drainpipe jeans Winkle picker shoes
Mixed with a touch of in grown toenail blues
Flirting with the girls the odd fumble and kiss
Never quite attaining that hoped for bliss
Still hoping
Then the older woman who’d said on the whole
You were pretty good but needed more control
No need for such hurry slow down and wait
No need to be like the bull at the gate
And you tried
And then you met the one and got the timing right
And sometimes you’d love away half of the night
So happy in your bliss as your lives moved on
Until before you knew it most of it was gone
But still very good
Then came that day when you both agreed
Rather than make love you’d have a cup of tea
And you climbed into bed whispered good night
And fell straight to sleep both cuddled up tight
Feeling good
And you now watch the teens through more senior eyes
See them laughing and flirting as they amble on by
And you remember these days when just a flick of skirt
Could cause a reaction so hard that it very nearly hurt
And you smile
I look outside my window, at the trees growing bare
I stare at speckled leaves, piling random everywhere
I watch them decompose, death’s clogging up my air
I want to rot with them, on the sidewalk over there
I’m weary with vitality, having discarded all it’s flair
I’m sick and tired of continuance, recycling and repair
I’m on the whole partial, to forget about the stairs
I’m doing cartwheels, first rectangular then a square
My heart lives up my sleeve, can only deal from there
My thoughts for others, cannot be bothered to share
My sole sense of achievement, is self inflated despair
My halo at last comes full circle, I kick away the chair
''W'' New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Choice word #1 Weary
11/24/21
I saw a talk-show interview
of a new author, all the rage,
she had sold two million copies,
her book is everywhere these days.
It was tailor-made for women,
a downcast wife looking for love,
verbally abusive husband,
trapped in a situation tough.
Until one day she went out west,
going on vacation alone,
her husband said that he had work,
brushed her off, she was on her own.
She had gone out to a dude ranch,
she had loved horses as a kid,
where she met the ranch’s wrangler,
a mountain man cowboy named Sid.
He was what her husband was not,
Sid was caring, confident, cool,
he’d help he mouth, his touch would linger,
and she’d smile back like a fool.
They’d find themselves talking for hours,
finding any excuse to touch,
then one day in a mountain meadow
they spread a blanket and made love.
It was all that she lacked at home,
passionate, intense, and sincere,
she wished that she could never leave,
but she had a life, a career….
And her cowboy love made peanuts,
not enough for two to survive,
nesides, this was infatuation,
that’s what she told herself inside.
But at home she couldn’t be happy,
soon enough she longer for escape,
so once a year, for a whole week,
to her cowboy she’d make her way.
And this continued for eight years,
until she saw on their website,
that her man died in a car crash,
she hid her tears for that whole night.
Yet he had left a parting gift,
for she was sick in the mornings,
this was the author’s tragic tale,
it has countless fans adoring.
To seal the deal she did proclaim
that it was based on her own life,
she’d changed names, but much was quite real,
you sold more with tales of real strife.
My own wife was enrapt by it,
which caused me some little alarm,
but she just laughed and dismissed it
when I said such tales could do harm.
But something just didn’t sit right,
on the whole thing something seemed off,
I know truth is stranger than fiction,
but something kept making me scoff.
Real life just doesn’t work this way,
romance can never be that clear,
then throw in infidelity?
This tale was not what it appeared.
So in free time I went online,
digging into the author’s past,
and saw that I was not the first
to put this new writer on blast...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.