Long Performed Poems
Long Performed Poems. Below are the most popular long Performed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Performed poems by poem length and keyword.
Someone once said,
"If opportunity doesn't knock,
build a door."
~ Milton Berle
__________________________________
It Knocked, So I Built A Door
Building doors, and other construction,
That I performed
Was the most incredible opportunity
That I couldn't ignore.
I'm at a retired state now,
From being a carpenter stake
But it was such a great adventure
I had to take.
The building, like "Jesus did,
When God became Man."
Great profession it was in like kind,
That one could achieve in his mind.
If its indeed in your heart,
A passion that you possess.
You'll succeed there it's guaranteed,
A success!
Opportunity knocked again for me,
But in a place, I never thought I would be
In a field of study, different from before
In the literary world of creative writing,
Sometimes about doors.
So, here I sit, writing as I do,
The grandest of opportunities
That now displays to you.
A muse, if you wish, to me,
A product of options success.
Edited: May 22, 2023, 9:35 A.M. (EST)
Between the Pauls, there were some laughs
From some with valued autographs
And glimpses of the former staffs
Of Saturday Night Live.
Some old routines brought up to date,
Including some just second-rate,
Performed to help to celebrate
What’s managed to survive.
Paul Simon started with a song
To which we all could sing along
And with a voice no longer strong,
For harmony he’d strive.
Sir Paul, the final singing guest,
In dapper shirt and jet-black vest,
Despite his lessened pipes, impressed,
The audience alive.
For fifty years of SNL,
We’ve watched careers it helped propel
And since this wasn’t a farewell,
We hope it long may thrive.
The flight controller solemnly guides another aircraft in-bound.
The plane safely lands, smoking tires delicately kiss the ground.
The pilot reverently tells the tower he has twenty-one souls aboard.
Alas, his passengers lie in flag-draped coffins, 'tis sad to record.
Misty eyes are seen upon the faces of the honor guard here and there,
As they handle the coffins of their brothers with tender, loving care.
Chaplains intone quiet words of comfort, leading a final parade,
To honor them with lasting tribute for their righteous crusade.
Brave American heroes, who sacrificed all upon the field of strife,
Now safely sheltered in the arms of God, who promised eternal life.
Tho' they gallantly performed their duty with honor and dedication,
Sadly, they won't parade or hear the acclaim of a grateful nation.
Brave patriots will be borne to their rest in hallowed ground,
To await the clarion call of Gabriel's triumphant sound.
Honor guards will fire the gun salute upon the sergeant's command.
The plaintive tones of "Taps" will echo throughout the land.
Tho' twenty-one American families' lives will be changed forever,
They take comfort knowing that their sons died for freedom's endeavor.
They placed the destiny of their country above their very own,
To ensure that our hard-won liberties will ne'er be overthrown!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Constance's "Scavenger Hunt" Contest - August 2010
A small hair-thin gap; this got widened like the Oman Gulf;
Life, as though within the mouth of a ghost, did get engulf;
No look; no smile; no speech; deadly movements performed like plays,
Physique and psyche moved like monsters, in deserted ways...!
Did we have unfeasible assumptions and surmises?
Like water and vessels, do our hearts change shapes and sizes?
When you happened to fall, I failed to hold you, I know well,
Have you, at my rises and falls, ever at my side, dwell...?
You counted your money; I, mine; we never counted ours,
Spending each one in our way we established our powers;
Our promises failed us; from fidelity, we were far,
Each bore in our hearts the failure of our former love's scar...!
The bedroom was our furnace; we yearned to be out of it,
From formalities and show-offs, yet, why could we not quit?
Intimacy meant just impulsive expressions of beasts,
While our bodies met, our inner minds had their other feasts...!
We're, thus, dear, in physique and psyche unbridgeable chasm,
Unbridgeable? Nay. Bridgeable with some enthusiasm;
All that we need is the willingness to live together,
Bearing a bit of the hardship of each changing weather...!!!
19 June 2023
Buddhist view on aversion and desire,
cognises oscillations between them,
thereby sidestepping consequence dire,
nipping thorns and flowers, before they stem,
equal in dark and star of Bethlehem.
Cessation by negation, age old ways,
far cry from the tantric, who to joy sways,
dancing at all times in celebration,
imbibing within bliss, that always stays,
given to play, in vibrant elation.
One view accepts that what is, simply is,
thus centered in the void, without movement,
choice of non-action, exiting thought quiz,
heart equipoised in quiet contentment,
whilst the other infuses joy intent,
each breath inflow taken as divine grace,
burning yearning to see God face to face,
all acts performed, in aspect surrender,
seeking out the truth, at a burning pace,
whilst beholding Gods manifest wonder.
28-August-2021
Your Favorite August 2021 Poem contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
The doctors have given Dad 18 months to live but I don't believe that.
They say he's dying but I say that they're full of crap.
I will not give up because I know that he'll survive.
If people have faith, I know that he'll remain alive.
God has performed many miracles and he'll do it again.
With God's help, Dad will beat this disease, he will win.
The doctors say that Dad's leukemia has made him terminally ill.
But I will not give up because I know that every day God heals.
When the good Lord heals my dad, it will be something that I'll celebrate.
Any prayers that he receives will be something that I'll really appreciate.
(Dedicated to Charles Johnson, my dad.)
Today was Special Person’s Day
At pre-school, for the 3’s.
One guest per child and I was picked,
An honor I did seize.
Each child announced his person
Then we hunted for their names
On a placemat on the table
Where we sat and made some frames.
There was fruit to eat and cookies
Which the children helped to bake
And some marigolds in plastic cups
For all of us to take.
Then a teacher took our pictures
So the frames will get some use
And the kids performed a song and dance
To shake their sillies loose.
Though I’m one of several people
Henry loves who love him back,
I am thrilled that he decided
To select me from the pack.
in the evening light of an Ugandan town,
welcome breeze in a large thatched canopy,
in a gathering of strangers and friends,
a nepali chef’s exquisite indian cuisine,
aroma of food swarms the candle-lit lobby,
a lone singer in blue jeans strums his guitar,
“ wise men say, only fools rush in,
but I can’t help falling in love with you”!*
tinkle of wine glasses and bottles
beauteous ebony soft skin reflect the candle glow,
colourful scarfs drape elegant hair,
the warmth of the day is long gone,
but radiant are the primal senses,
a greying drummer taps his feet,
the gathering, swings slowly to the UB40 beat,
in African suburb, king Elvis is reborn,
“ shall I stay? would it be a sin?
but I can’t help falling in love with you!”
i feel a soft cheek leaning on my shoulder,
eyes looking in to my eyes,
her hand rubbing my forearm seeking love,
instinctively my hand reach around her long slim waist,
as we gently kiss, lips sensing the warmth of desire!
“take my hand, take my whole life too,
i can’t help falling in love with you”
two strangers in close embrace,
evening, late night, wine and incense,
no introductions, no names
just passion and desire.
In that Ugandan town,
two strangers sought love
under a canopy, voice of a lone singer,
Elvis’ popular song to UB40 beat!
“ like a river flows surely to the sea,
darling so it goes,
somethings are meant to be”
1st Placement
Written 28/07/2020
Sponsor Beth Evans
Same old song poetry contest
* “can’t help falling in love with you“ Elvis Song performed by UB40
I have crossed the years of eternal time.
Watching and listening to sorrowful cries.
Whispers beckon deliverance to heal this pain.
I feel dark emptiness; am I going insane?
I must embrace it!
As the melancholy sun sets with autumn rays.
Stars linger on as the sky moves in darkened waves.
I walk on the path of reminiscing when love was lost.
Knowing that the sacrifice performed came with a cost.
I must embrace it!
Fear unbounded transforms into fiery hate of death.
It is in the perception that drives humanity to unrest.
Gathering gloom, creating false and hopeless despair.
Attempting deception to protect its fear with care.
I must embrace it!
Beyond the intrinsic attention that cultivates this madness.
Comes the human-loving soul, invoking hope for happiness.
The artistic soul creates avenues of reflective compassion.
Bringing forth unity of love among us as we embrace his greatness.
I must embrace it, the loving divine!
Early summer flowering deciduous shrubs,
And I among them came and went with
Philadelphus virginalis,
Their brightening solar ships.
Its natural tendency is to grow vase-shaped,
Clipping encourages the plant to fill out
And become dense, and in my final spring
It performed beautifully, flowering prolifically.
Mock orange is not a heavy feeder.
It loves sun and reads memories
On cactus leaves with sideways glares,
Though on an "established" plant,
One should prune out about one-third
Of the old growth (the trivialities of life's Agur),
Allowing the gloried lightness of day
To seize upon bright green leaves.