Long Owes Poems
Long Owes Poems. Below are the most popular long Owes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Owes poems by poem length and keyword.
In a world of filled of hate
Love is not the enough
We need a clean slate
We need to keep the Black life Matters
Movement, going to make a change
We have given up on believing
The superior, then there is the inferior
The rich and then there is the poor
The celebrities and there is the followers
Then comes action, follow by reactions:
Politics and politicians: riots and bigots
Beam us up Scotty: beam then down Lucifer
Lord of the Darkness …….
forces of chaos on Earth and in the netherworld.
I read this morning that Kanye W
Is thanking the lord for his $68 million refund
Here I am thanking the lord this morning
Not to be gun down, by the drifters
Or the boom, boom nightly firecrackers
Or to be sidetrack by mad ass co-workers,
Only if peace would come sooner,
And haters would vanish…..
Like the children of Hamlet town
Who owes the piper , should the darn pied piper
Books to the library
photos to family.
Paint cans and lumber
from renovations years ago.
Most of the furniture
including the piano.
Fastest way to do this
is rent a dumpster.
On the internet
nothing’s permanent,
nothing's gonna happen.
Photosynthesis, evaporation
as if your spirit disappears
when the sun appears.
It’s a burden lifted
not to have to persevere.
Edits
for clarity
and brevity.
One owes the reader
a respite from
the tonnage of
fructifying English.
To drown one’s book is devoutly to be wished.
Coupla trumpets,
big comfy couch,
four beds and dressers
and the contents of closets.
Tools we don’t use,
surge protectors and chargers,
lawn and patio accoutrements,
table settings for ten.
Lamplit underground,
the stray branch,
synchronized chaos,
a red fez.
One canary,
map of Antarctica,
three deaf little otoliths,
six or seven sybils.
Extra salt and pepper shakers,
sharpies and crayons,
a printer and a scanner,
the Bible and Koran.
Kaput calculators and computers,
subscriptions and prescriptions,
a host of vitamins
and the ghosts of ancestors.
Time itself
but not nature.
Wealth
and most of culture
but not my health.
That I’ll keep,
and sleep—practice
for perfect rest.
The fate that awaits the road, not taken, a change of course when a vision didn’t last?
It is a shadow road, unknown, never a look at the future
and never a glimpse of the past.
It is a road that will never fulfill a dream
and will never cause heartbreak or taste defeat.
It will never clam a treasure to boast
or attempt a hurdle too high to leap.
It is a safe road never to be known,
never has a destiny, never owes a debt,
only a mirage of a future that never tolerates regret.
It is a story never written with nothing to gain, only a tease
a plan that turned on the change of a mind
and drops away like falling leaves
~I don't need, In case you haven't heard~
I don't need to strip for no crown, unless you desire large breast
Casarah, there's no need to be deluded by money hungry psychics,
Reading leaves from a tea cup, a misguided fortune of bribes
Can't you see satin gold already streams through my veins
It's not about wanting it bad or how low I would go
I don't need to threaten you or order dominoes
Never would I clean or do your chores,
Rather, I bet you look good dressed as a French Maid
Cleaning and writing around the beauty of everything
Forget the honorable mention, I want first place
This is your week, blank out the pretenders, fakers and haters
They will never have your back once the contest close
As for me, you've been on my dinner plate, since day one
I don't need a grammar base pen, rhyme pattern to win
What I got is hotter, by far the best rates on everything
I don't need Jan to be my friend, Andrea, to address me with a hello
What I have is satisfaction and loyalty everywhere I go.
I got flaws hotter than the sun, strutting my stuff just for you
No need to scratch my back, what we need is a back massage for two
Calgon will give us the youth Greek Gods can't top in 60 seconds
Unwrap yourself from Broken vines, it's time you deal with--
a moon as gold as every word you ever poured from your pen
Let's enjoy the Groveling moon, together we can enslave and take control
You don't need a genie lamp, you are worth more than diamonds and pearls
Together we can toss that lamp back into the Silent of the shadows
Before, greed becomes a misery --- Casarah darling
I got to admit 1,000.000.000 dollars sounds decent
Too bad, Michael's check bounced before it had a chance
Together let's take these sweet little bribes and make the world of it
Flip the bird, burn down all abandon houses
Built another strong community, wait, something is amiss!
Someone owes a gambling debt, coming to you with casino chips
Casarah, I'm not trying to please your mind, or give voice to my bride
I don't NEED to give what you already earn in your honest way
What I want is to win, no attorney needed - I rest my case
Love the Poet Destroyer
Come rain or shine
The children of Penny Lane
Gather to play and while away
At Lady Madonna
Out polishing her front doorstep
Day by day
On her run down council tenement terrace house
She is so house proud
But expectant visitors never come
Nothing alive has crossed over
Since that letter was delivered
Notification her Husband and Son
Where alas no more
Casualties of war
Merely your country owes you a debt of gratitude sincerely sorry for your loss
With no body to repatriate nothing
to put in a coffin or bury she couldn't even
plan or mourn at their funeral
Eleanor Rigby
Where do they all the lonely people
Come from and go
God only knows the time and place
She was a maestro on stage with her friends
They loved her musical talent and her ability to tell a joke.
She was in her glory here with those who loved her.
One day she met a man and he pretended to love her.
She invited him to her performance, and she began stuttering.
He was throwing disapproval at her with dagger eyes.
In seconds she was melting onto the floor, unsure of herself.
A voice within said “Who the heck is that guy?” We don’t need him!”
She threw out her titties and began living her truth again.
His frowning and glaring worsened, and she laughed, and her titties laughed.
Began playing her truth, telling her jokes, and being more on than before.
Her stage friends were amazed. She had ever been this outgoing and delightful.
So she owes her screaming success to the disapproving man. Right?
Of course not, but he was the impetus, so she owes him a bite of a sandwich
or a cup of coffee with grounds in it.
What I'd like to give you,
is an ounce of my cologne
before I leave for battlefield
Tomorrow if I fail to come back alive
and you miss me
Don't shed tears
Just take a whiff of my perfume,
you will feel me near
Remember, you are wife of a brave soldier
His life was meant for the nation, not you
Be proud of me, I died trying for victory
Make my son a man of high integrity
Fill him with compassion for all
He owes a lot to the nation
Should repay back by serving countrymen
Let him not be a selfish person,
filling his coffers, enjoying himself
He should leave a mark behind
Die doing something worthy of acclaim
Bring me back home
I want my last rites performed here
Place my head on your lap
Tell me I am proud of you dear
If the bells of victory ring in the town
Smile and rejoice that my death
has not gone in vain
If we lose still be happy,
We laid our life
never gave up till the end
Console mother,
she may not be able to bear it
Tell her I told I can't see her crying
If I come back alive
Just sprinkle this cologne on me
Let us rejoice together
26.09.2021
For bring me home, Mystic Rose Rose
Listen to your heart beat like a drum
So inspired to write a song of love
Love is a tool unique for everyone
If you listen too you will be touched
War is hurting many hearts in despair
Weapons of war are sometimes words
Blue heart troubled as one who cares
For a family for a soldier who deserves
To live good life may very well die
Serving in the military so proud
Loved ones missed inspires cry
Red eyes that seem to shout
Come back my dear soldier and
Try to heal your war torn heart
A nation owes you to understand
Your sacrifice day, night as a star
PTSD and survivor silver guilt
May rob you of purple peace
Despite challenge you are built
To live life in the land of the free
You’re so used to guarding yourself
You may have walls around heart
Purple Heart you earned isn’t wealth
And money can only go so far
Wishing you a joyful red recovery
Even from things you had to hide
Like the unknown soldier’s discovery
Perhaps a part of you too died
No one knows your story struggle
If it helps write the pain away
May your reward be peace double
In your life your heart I pray
The person you are is licorice loyal
May your lover be as good to you
May you share passion so hot it boils
That healthily heals your insides too
EARLY POEMS XIX
Bound
by Michael R. Burch
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground,
I have lost what I once found
in your arms.
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes,
I have remade all my chains
and am bound.
Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal, The Lantern
130 Refuted
by Michael R. Burch
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red ...
— Shakespeare, Sonnet 130
Seas that sparkle in the sun
without its light would have no beauty;
but the light within your eyes
is theirs alone; it owes no duty.
And that flame, not half as bright,
is meant for me, and brings delight.
Coral formed beneath the sea,
though scarlet-tendriled, cannot warm me;
while your lips, not half so red,
just touching mine, at once inflame me.
And the searing flames your lips arouse
fathomless oceans fail to douse.
Bright roses’ brief affairs, declared
when winter comes, will wither quickly.
Your cheeks, though paler when compared
with them?—more lasting, never prickly.
And your cheeks, so dear and warm,
far vaster treasures, need no thorns.
I believe I wrote this poem as a college freshman, age 18.
With my daughter, by a waterfall
by Michael R. Burch
By a fountain that slowly shed
its rainbows of water, I led
my youngest daughter.
And the rhythm of the waves
that casually lazed
made her sleepy as I rocked her.
By that fountain I finally felt
fulfillment of which I had dreamt
feeling May’s warm breezes pelt
petals upon me.
And I held her close in the crook of my arm
as she slept, breathing harmony.
By a river that brazenly rolled,
my daughter and I strolled
toward the setting sun,
and the cadence of the cold,
chattering waters that flowed
reminded us both of an ancient song,
so we sang it together as we walked along
?unsure of the words, but sure of our love?
as a waterfall sighed and the sun died above.
This poem was published by my college literary journal, Homespun, in 1977. I believe I wrote around age 18.
Keywords/Tags: early, early poems, juvenilia, sun, red, lips, seas, light, flame, fire, oceans, roses, thorns, winter, cheeks, waterfall, daughter, rose, roses are red
You know how a cat is? The way it awakes,
how its eyes open, for a moment
not seeing anything,
how it blinks slowly
eyelids washing a mind
of anything but satisfaction.
Legs stiffen, stretching out,
paws opening and closing
as it arches its back.
Lithe sinews ripple under a velvet pelt,
its whole body a rubber band of pleasure.
I used to wake like that - almost.
This sleek, self-absorbed feline
who owes me at least
some cursory acknowledgment,
just slinks away without a glance
as I struggle to disentangle
my creaking form from jumbled bed covers.
It has prowled through the cat flap
probably stalking garden sparrows by now.
I make coffee
once more vowing to get myself a dog -
an old one.