Long On work Poems
Long On work Poems. Below are the most popular long On work by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long On work poems by poem length and keyword.
HE MADE A WHIP OF CORDS AND DROVE THEM ALL OUT OF THE TEMPLE AREA. JOHN 2:15
PART OF OUR CHRISTIAN witness in the world
To model the behavior of Jesus
We know all about this great acts of compassion and mercy
He taught us to be kind and forgiving
We know about turning the other check and loving our enemies
Rarely do we think of Jesus filled with anger
Acting on that anger as he does in the cleansing of the temple
It is never good to let our emotions get the best of us
To allow our anger free rein
But any devoted follower of Christ can
Should rise up in the face of defilement as Jesus did
When he drove the money changers from his Father’s house
Anger (like love) is a powerful God-given emotion to injustice
Where we need to be concerned
When our anger turns violent
Is confused with revenge
God of love and mercy, hear our prayers.
Readings and Giospel
Ezekeil 47-2, 8-9, 12, Psalm 46:2-3, 5-6, 8-9
Corinthians 3:9-11, 16-17
John 2:13-22
Form:
Sometimes it is hard to know what to write or when to write when you have just about every
thought possible flowing through your head. I wonder, "Should I please the public with
how "poetic" I am or should I please You? I know what the answer is but at times I'm
worried about being liked or whether people get me. Is my belief in Your Son too far
above their heads or will they get it? Should I even worry about public opinion? Of
course I know as a follower of Christ, sharing my testimony and telling them about the
Lord is what I'm supposed to do. On the other hand, have I become to preachy and
dull? Am I shoving my beliefs down their throats? Then I realize, didn't Jesus make
himself of no reputation? Everybody thought that He was weird, blasphemous and not
qualified to tell them anything when it came to how they were living. I'm only here to do
what He wants me to do, nothing more, nothing less. If I do my part, the right people will
hear it, love it and appreciate it. All I should do, is write the word and leave all my
"rambling worries" to Him.
Grandma was German raised to value beauty,
her art found in nature the flowers and the trees.
Grandpa, a Wentworth, from an English family
whose Great Grand sailed the Mayflower, across the sea.
In the time of William Morris, when craft was art,
Great Granddad was a shipwright that's how we got our start.
So, we valued craft and beauty and adventure charted.
Through tough times, poverty, still wisdom was imparted.
Born in a place of splendor miles from the bay,
Mom was raised on the poetry of Edna Millay.
I was born there to and in the woods I played
amongst maidenhair ferns and violets unafraid.
In art born, with brush and pen, often did I write,
raised on Lord Tennyson to great my delight.
And, I adored the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright
how he blended craftsmanship into each homesite.
Schooled in modern art Warhol and Mies Van De Rhoe,
my mind opened blooming to many new tableaus.
All my contemporaries were part of art neuvau.
Each masterly artisan's work helped me to grow
A young man was arrested
And was locked up in a cell.
He never thought his life would turn
Into a living hell.
The San Diego D.E.A.
Forgot that he was there.
For four days in a barren cell,
He suffered in despair.
He had no food or water
Nor a toilet or a sink.
His urine was the only choice
When he was forced to drink.
His hands were cuffed behind his back
But still he kicked and screamed.
He contemplated suicide,
The only choice, it seemed.
When agents found him, four days late,
And saw his sorry shape,
They took him to the hospital,
His overdue “escape.”
Though he’ll survive, his lawyers say
They plan to file a suit.
I hope somebody’s found at fault
And that they’ll prosecute.
This level of incompetence
Is truly monumental.
The D.E.A.’s response was
It was simply “accidental.”
The callousness of that remark
Proves they don’t have a clue;
For nightmares such as this,
A simple “sorry” just won’t do.
Coarse, featureless shards stagnating
Fodder for a discerning hand's mending
Putty strands their potential value bleating
For a potter's touch; new life entreating
Gentle hands rough surface massaging
Rubbery texture patting and preening
Carefully each lump, fold kneading
Instinctively more clay into mixture feeding
Pressing the mass around the wheel now speeding
Softly caressing, while each corner buttressing
Holpen hands new shape, form deeding
A spherical chalice deftly molding
Each cascading side symetrically scaling
Delicate fingers each crenelation each groove formulating
Peeling off excessive fragments, proportions receding
Moisture from the master's hand now bleeding
Patiently, a primitive, tidy colander forging
With rythmic, patterned movements shearing
An artistically, woven pot from the wheel emerging
A magestic artifact the maestroes skill divulging
Finding Presence
Night sky beckoning dawn
Gentle sensations
Early morning walks
Empty avenues
Central Park breezes
Village cobblestone streets
Wet with glistening reflections
Accompany the seeker’s every move
Citified whispers
Discordant choruses
The street cleaner
The sliding steel-front security doors
Excited canines straining leashes
Open casements echoing emphysema-regrets
Merging with the early morning smells and start-up images
City’s reality mix awakening
Conscious-walking shakes loose somnolence
Opening eyes to the gargoyles atop historic landmarks
Their stoic residence mirrored in all-glass surroundings
Urban growth towering over huddling addicts of all types
Weary of sleepless nights
Enjoined by occasional pouting mannequins
Dressing light-starved windows
Poised to portray tourist-trap knockoffs
Rayon for silk
Fantasy for verity
Predatory “going out of business” choices ubiquitous
Shut down shops—beaten
Barely open shops—clinging
Wanderers drifting listlessly
Rising early by guilty conscience
Some prodding their welfare bodies to move
Others fearing unfaithful one-nighters become known
Old widows lean from their tenement windowsills
Having endured another sleepless night of heat
Too poor to leave the city
Too proud to ask of children
Soon
Sunrise bathes the grayness with color
Subway entrances congest
Yellow cabs begin cacophonous warm-ups
Like an orchestra of out-of-tune instruments
Their blasts are met with the inescapable “Taxi!” “Taxi!”
Deli workers spread cream cheese
Warm Bear Claws
Brew bad coffee
Wish their customers “have a good one”
Keeping secure their jobs
For another day
Returning home
Five flight walk up
One’s feet beg relief from the morning roam
A pull on the carton of OJ
A flip-on of the two-burner
The water to boil
A drop into the drug-from-the-dumpster-couch
Chock-Full-Of-Nuts in waiting
Want ads front and center
A few deep breaths
Just another day
Surviving the city
A guy decked out in suit and tie
Will never catch my eye
Nor muscles, money, fame or glam
They shouldn't even try
For what I deem is sensual
Might sound a bit askew
So close your eyes and come to know
My sexiest venue
At six foot two, my burly beau
Who's milked and tilled and farmed
Was called to help a cow with twins
To bring them out unharmed
And I recall the day when all
The kids lined up to see -
Him close his eyes and reach inside
Such raw inti – macy!
I saw him sweat and concentrate
And turn those breach calves 'round
So when they came into this world
I felt my heart just pound!
SEXY
Michelle Prital
From within the perspex booth, he flirtily inquired
if my day so far had been fulfilling
Duty of filling two reusable bags with thirty items
Didn't stop my silly line from spilling
"Certainly, yes - it's fulfilling me now"
His stare seemed unphased by my lame admission
Scanned groceries somewhere invisible
Face much closer than distance restrictions allow
French throat honey diverted from usual
Behind glasses, bulged eyes listening
Attempt at saving my remark from ruin, I extended
Adept words of general philosophy
on work life balance, my hope his shift soon ended
Frenchy said, "So soon I'm finishing"
Paid, sashayed away, loaded my car
Out of hours nerd backlit by afternoon's fading filter
Sauntered, long limbs fish fine flowed
to his boxy hatchback, began to fold himself into her
Glimsed me, his drive to leave slowed
Look longer than checkout intended
Don't play movies, - be the movie! I frantically chant
My devious quickly runs reels of torrid takes
Grinning, " Thought you'd be put off by my little rant"
Croissant crumbs flew frenzied as he makes
Front seat space clean to enable our chat
Knocked my head on circular pink hand grip swung
His French consoling rubbed clumsily
upon my hair, explained rubber grip used by his Mum
Tried to tuck it away, cute care fumbling
My impatient imagination carried us far
Decal sticker on window, white lettering ' Luck Left'
I inquire puzzled as to its meaning
"Today Luck came," he says, " It's going to be perfect"
Honestly, hormones by then teeming
Carpark departed in five seconds flat
(smutty Sundee)
23rd August 2020
A salesman sometimes helps you out,
But often he does not.
If you are clueless, what he knows
Can add to quite a lot.
Yet there are clerks so in your face
That they become intrusive;
And others hide like jungle creatures,
Rare and most elusive.
The perfect guy or gal in sales
Is patient and attentive.
Commission may be why, but we
Should seem like the incentive.
A knowledge of the products adds
To what they have to tell you.
A pleasant personality
Adds much to what they sell you.
It’s nice to leave a store and feel
That you’ve been taken care of.
A customer who’s satisfied
Gets more than he’s aware of.
I have so much to do
I can't get it all done
To many balls in the air
I can't juggle every one
I am sure you've heard of me
The guy who dropped the ball
Now here I am
Knocking my head against the wall
They say that nice guys
Always finish last
It seems that's the case
I'm getting there fast
Just one more job
Added to my plate
Now I'm in trouble
You're out on your date
In the end I'm fired
I think that's okay
Your turn to work
My time to play
Disclaimer: don't send donations, still happily working here in Kelowna. I am however considering setting up a holiday fund if you wish to contribute to that:))