Long Order of the day Poems
Long Order of the day Poems. Below are the most popular long Order of the day by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Order of the day poems by poem length and keyword.
Corona has done some good to society
Life is now relaxed and tension free
No need to gulp your food in hurry
People are spending more time in door
Families are coming closer like never before
Families are sitting together and chatting
Board games have come out even elders are playing
People are spending more time with parents
Siblings are more tolerant to each others tantrums
Homemade food is the order of the day
People are becoming more independent day by day
Although busy people are happy
Because they are doing all their jobs by themselves frankly
New skills are being learnt everyday
Life inside is happier in every way
Lot are using their free time effectively
Doing all that they longed to do daily
Books are coming out of cupboards
So are paint brush and colours
People are happy from inside
Mad rush for money has ebbed for a while
People have realise the value of life
They are enjoying every moment of life
Life is short has clearly become evident
Make the most of it every moment
People have become more health conscious than ever
Basic hygiene rules are followed more than ever
People have finally become environment friendly
Level of pollution has reduced finally
Chirping of birds can be heard clearly
Freshness off air can be sensed clearly
Mother is Joyous and happy
Cases of rape and robbery no longer heard
Such peace was really unheard
It seems evil has come to an end
Thanks to corona many ways have been mend
It seems corona is a gift of god
So that we may feel thankful to God
Every moment of life given to us
Is meant to be enjoyed by us
Date: 7/27/2020
Only those you love can really hurt you;
For those you do not love can't reach your heart,
So when they say or do things that can cut you,
The pain can pierce your heart just like a dart.
Things like this aren't easily forgotten.
When remembered wounds seem fresh again,
Apologies sincere are like a bandage,
That helps to heal the wound, assuage the pain.
When we attack someone in heat of anger,
And say things that we really shouldn't say,
"I'm sorry", is the order of the day then,
So hard feelings that will staycan be allayed.
Even if you think that you've done nothing,
That you should feel ashamed or sorry for,
If in your righteousness you find you've hurt them,
A simple word can halt a closing door.
Why sit back and say,"Let them get o'er it.'
'I will not crawl to them on bended knee."
If you've hurt someone who loves you, you should forfeit,
The pride that keeps your stubborn cruelty.
Karma is for real. Karma will get you sooner or later. Woe be unto the oppressor when the table turns.
And no matter what difficult time you may go through in life, try hard to have a positive and optimistic outlook.
Because Miss Karma dishes out fortune and the Future like a Mirror.
And Let This be a Warning. Those who do good, Good Karma will Follow You.
Those who are bent on doing or being bad, Bad KLarma will perpetually accompany you like a leach, like crazy Glue.
Karma is Forever. It Lasts Forever, Until Death Do Us Part. So Do Be vey Careful.
What You reap is what you sew.
Some crave for all the money in the world, more than enough, more than their share.
And Kick the less fortunate under the curb at every turn.
While some believe in selflessness.
God is watching all of us, scrutinising us very attentively.
Then he drops his Karma.
Be forever cognisant of The Golden Rule.
Renowned American Author and Psychic Sylvia Browne once Projected that 3 terrible Negative Forces Are Responsible for a lot of Bad and Bad Fate in the world-Anger, Pride And Fear.
But I Wish to Argue that She Forgot Greed and Injustice.
The Bottom Line Tough is That Harboring bad forces encourages Bad Karma.
Of Course We Should Never Forget Dishonesty/Hypocrisy -Just Plain Lying/Lies/Deviousness/Divisiveness/Deceit/Maliciousness which seem to be the Order Of The Day These Sad Lonely Some Say Last Days.
I am one of those persons who strongly believe for every good deed we do, a good deed returns to us or to one of our children or grand children.
I had a very good Deceased friend Frederick Sticky Liburd from Bath,
God Bless his dear Departed Heart and Soul, who once relayed to me
That the famous English Cardinal Thomas Woolsey cried on his dying bed;
Heartbroken, Miserable And Betrayed by The Very King he lied and covered up for
And Sacrificed and dedicated his every breath for. Fought for his every whim with true true unwavering dedication:
'If I had only served my God with half the zeal and zest with which I served my King,
I would have been a Much Better Person'.
Here in the plasms
of nightmares,
hate plagues the world
with its pawns
dispersed across the globe
of deception—scheming
sins of treacherous times,
teasing valor with deceit;
mocking rights to life
liberty and the pursuit
of happiness.
Old pirates sail sullen seas
searching new ways
to tell told stories
catalogued and stored
as glorious his-story
(her-story? never our-story!):
transgressions remain
the order of the day.
In this Dante-like scene
of the human enigma,
peace cringes in universal
despair—imploding
into its own black hole—seeking
lights of love reflecting
renewed humanity gestating
in the furrows of plowed time.
The human creatures dancing
To the rhythms of blood and flesh
Shrieks and sobs of soft babies
Pain, agony and misery
Years yell the same story
Written in tears and ruins
Hearts turned in to stones
Homes turned in to smoke
Hitting the candid souls
Bitten by chill and hunger
Destined to live in
Desolation and buried hope
The cruel laugh of booming guns
Turning breath in to blaze
The rampage and destruction
Mocking the innocent masses
Falling on deaf ears
Of political lords and masters
Years come and go
Pain, agony and doom continues
Injustice and endless wait
Is the order of the day
But the world reels as usual
Leaving the distressed to destiny
Where is “Happy New Year”?
My heart weeps
The cruel demons and brutes
Celebrating their success of
Shedding the blood for nothing
Turning the years in to tyranny
Determined not to learn
From the buds, bees and breeze
The art of harmony and peace
The hoards of heartless beasts
Thriving on human suffering
But, the Father sleeps
All the doggies are looking eager, there's a breeze blowing up
Even the older ones are feeling perky, just like they are a pup
All snouts are at the door jambs they all know there is breeze
With the occasional one with dust up their nose outs a sneeze
While their owners are wrapping up and buttoning down coats
As the jiggling of the doggy leads gets all of the doggy’s votes
Then your head's down to miss the oncoming harrowing winds
Doggies love it, and all you see from them is their doggy grins
All that wet and wind must be doing the brain cells some good
Running around in puddles then coming home covered in mud
You're dreading that all over shake down that the doggies love
Then it's mud all over the hallway wallpaper to heavens above
It is time for that bath, or shower, it's now the order of the day
Then getting rosy in front of the fire, the contented doggies lay
Whilst despite protecting yourself from all those outdoor winds
You are even more covered by the natures outdoor unholy sins
You're wet all over from giving the dear mutt a shower, or bath
Looking all bedraggled, hubby, is looking at you stifling a laugh
Your clothes and towels are in the washing machine, all is done
The dog is happy now sleeping it has more than enjoyed its run
Hubby makes a hot cup of tea, then to run you a lovely hot bath
Totally in sympathy with you, just in case he catches your wrath
Both snuggled up in bed arguing who is doing the next dog walk
Next time the dog is eagerly sniffing the door jamb of the porch
Thinking is seaman's chore
in calm oceans, not the seagul's noise.
You need the right condition to
avoid sublimation-- a house burned down
by a mob needs practicing generosity.
Thinking of suffering in pandemic is itself
an act of suffering, needing resuscitation. Start with masks on the dead without coffins, truck-loads of bodies, with no where to go, ghosts of doctors exiting to cheering crowd, ambulances screeching to a halt, melting urban hot zones and infectious rural alarms.
You need the right condition to survive thinking of suffering, the wailing in hospital hallways, the hungry and the food banks, the mothers and bored infants, poorly-clad nurses teeming with pride. Pandemic has foisted new thinking on future survival, not trips to Niagra Falls. Thinking is luxury of living, not mortgaged by the dead, and suffering in thinking is legacy of the dead. Before the pandemic thinking was an easy kill by TV and internet, now pegged to a killer surge.
Ask for the roots of suffering and you never get it right, xenophobia's order of the day and thinking in despair. I think therefore I am – infected with fear and dread. I suffer, therefore I am.
a puff of steam
a drip of dew
a sip of water
an entire drink
a glass that's is full
can make a pool on the ground
add more water and there'd be a pond
let it rain and make a stream
joined with gravity and other streams
down to the creek the creek that flows
into a lake or a river who knows
old man river, old man river
must know something
but he don't say nuthin
he just keeps on rolling along
goin to the ocean to be with
tsunami's and tidal waves
sunsets and peacefull bays
all depends on the order of the day
splash, a small part of me
has landed in the sun
soon to be a puff of steam
another life begun
Contest Title: Rumi Quotes Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Deadline: Thursday, October 30, 2025
Poem Title: The Sergeant
A man of honor, he lived by a code,
Like a man from a time not his own.
He stood in the gap, and made no complaint,
Not a word, not a sign, not a groan.
He shielded his men the best that he could,
From the enemy and the damned brass.
Tough as old leather but kind when it counted,
But ready to fight with purpose and power.
When men were missing or counted as lost,
The Sergeant would often walk alone.
To see him like this was proof enough,
The Sergeant had no heart of stone.
After the war with orders in hand,
He returned to from whence he came.
With memories of battle and blood,
And the bodies that broke, or the lost names.
This man who faced fear with grey calm eyes,
Couldn’t face the losses he grieved.
Self-medication the order of the day,
For the broken good man who had led many.
He’d give it all to bring the lost back,
For himself he wouldn’t give a penny.
An older Vet from a war long ago,
Knew well the struggles he faced.
And brother to brother, a true, open heart,
Listened as the Sergeant talked and paced.
The struggle was slow and bitter the pain,
The Sergeant lanced with each broken word.
Ever so gradual, wounds began to heal,
And a quiet strength was restored.
Through brotherhood and that steady hand,
A willingness to finally understand.
What others may shy away from,
But a brother was there for me.
Poet Notes:
Quote: "The wound is the place where the light enters you." (Rumi)
This poem reflects the journey of a combat veteran who, after years of bearing emotional wounds, finds healing and acceptance through the dedicated support of a fellow veteran ("a brother"). The internal pain gives way to a deeper, more profound strength and peace.
To the tune of “Good King Wenceslas”
Good King Wenceslas looked out
Of the 8.07.
What he failed to notice was
The fast train bound for Devon.
When at last he saw its light,
His reaction was belated.
Good King Wenceslas alas
Was decapitated.
To the tune of “Away In A Manger”
Away in a doorway, of a shop that sells beds,
The homeless teenagers lay down their young heads.
A silver band’s playing, the youngsters awake.
It’s the Salvation Army with hot soup and cake.
To the tune of “God Rest you Merry, Gentlemen”
I invited all the family to come for Christmas Day.
But some of them live far away, which meant they had to stay.
So tidying the house became the order of the day.
Oh tidying for comfort and joy
Comfort and joy.
Oh tidying for comfort and joy
I’ve gone from top to bottom, and it’s clean as a new pin.
And now I’m more than ready for the visit of my kin.
The family won’t recognise the house when they walk in
Oh tidying for comfort and joy
Comfort and joy.
Oh tidying for comfort and joy
Today it’s Christmas Eve at last, but they’ve been on the phone.
The snow outside is two feet deep and they’re all stuck at home.
So I’ll be spending Christmastide all upon my own
So my tidying has all been in vain,
All in vain.
Yes my tidying has all been in vain.