Long Permanent Poems

Long Permanent Poems. Below are the most popular long Permanent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Permanent poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Love Has No Reply

Love Has No Reply
Love has no reply it just waits- 
love has no reply - it just prays- 
Love understands- as it hopes 
that rage will be quelled-
That the core of your heart will 
be overwhelmed- 
and overruled-Disenchantments 
of the venial mind-are allowable 
If you never intend to exhale- 
then inhalation is inevitable.
Demons seek company - 
Presenting illusions to keep misery 
side tracked' in sorrowful elegies
The cardinal mentation-
will automatically 
tick, when your tocking and;
Tock when you are ticking.

You came here with no instructions-- 
Love requires no action 
Does not have to reply
No matter the jargon 
the meaning of "no “is the same. 
Whether you wax or wane,
with wagers parlayed 
invest in the" WAIT" like the yellow light 
"Spread your bet-green light- keep moving 
Not always smart- to bet on a sure thing.
Red light stop wait -think about 
what you're thinking of doing- 
win, win situation.
Prior truth is not necessary for 
what is "yet to be believed" 
Permanent solutions 
should never be applied to a
temporary condition.
The efficaciousness of the syringe as a method in seeking answers to concepts is horribly ineffective. 
Love has no reply--- No outside stimuli - 
No do's or don'ts ... from the I ...
Strictly and inside Job.


Premium Member Etched in Stone

 
"My scars tell a story. I love each one. They are reminders of times
when life tried to break me and failed. They are marks etched in stone.
And proof of my character. Strength of my foundation and the fire that
burns within me always."

                                                      Quote by _Poet

Etched in Stone
  

Some things in life are permanent and fixed, they cannot be changed ever or 
altered.  I have things time carved in my mind, impossible to erase.  Written
on tombs.  No amendment or alteration or repair will change anything. I have 
powerful memories and emotional images, etched like graffiti on my heart.  
My spirit and mind are damaged with intricate designs in percise scroll details.  Engraved in my mind forever, painted on my soul.  I cannot forget.  Will not. 
And I am stained beautiful by the past, by time, and by years. Weathered is
my existence.  Ravaged is my garden.  Yet, has made me the me I am now.


among tombs I stroll
reading names etched beautiful
                    the rose I hold dead
Form: Haibun

Rest In Peace, Mom - Part Ii

I was devastated when I learned that you wouldn't make it.
When it came to my heart, your demise sure did break it.
You died 1096 days ago in 2013.
It was the worst year that I've seen.
When I saw you on life support, it was rough but facing your death was rougher.
My brother and I had you taken off the respirator so you wouldn't continue to suffer.
When you were dying, I felt helpless because there was nothing I could do.
When I found you dead on March the 6th, I had to say goodbye to you.
It took me about two years to get to feeling better about your death.
For two years I suffered tremendously after you became ill and left.
You were such a great mother that you made my brother and I better men.
Your death isn't permanent, when Jesus returns, we will see each other again.
I felt overbearing pain which made my life a mess.
Rest In Peace Mom, you were truly the greatest.

[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away three years ago today on March 6, 2013.]
Form: Rhyme

Frozen In the Heat

The sun takes its dark leave
Leaving night to reign again
For all the hours it’s assigned

The sun, I know, will rise again
To chase away the shadows haunting me
But until then I’m left feeling cold

Can’t you feel it in the wind?
See it raining from the sky?
Maybe it’s only me
Left hung out to dry

Freezing in the summer
Beneath the scalding summer sun
You were my source of light and heat

Now that you’re gone
It all seems to go a little slower
As if time itself had frozen still

The world’s so much colder
Down inside this crater we formed
With the edges we made far too smooth

Time will pass as it has done
All these years before and during
But then why am I still here?
In what seems like permanent mourning?

I can see what we had planned
A future burning brightly
But all that’s left now is the past
And my memories I clutch so tightly
© Derek Chos  Create an image from this poem.

This August 26th 2018 Rendition - Part Ii

killer (suicide) wrought living corpse 
fruition, while she whipped various 
nutritious concoctions in blender
to ensure minimal essentials to, I 

readily admit) famished body in con
junction with applying vital supple
mints into bony gluteus maximus, 
thru fuel injection which submissiveness
 
to acquiesce, and bare buttocks did 
absolutely nothing to squelch death wish.
I inexorably overcame eating disorder 
deadly hunger strike essentially constituted
 
declaration of independent control
despite horrendous craving for food 
jabbed innards like a pike bifurcated 
psychic division  loosed, ousted, and
 
routed coeval grim reaper grippe 
permanent goal lyeth drink seize abated
gnome hatter reminiscence blissful child
hood over flooded self made dike 
revised engendering propensity 
to catapult into abysmal emotional hole

before invention of Facebook, I 
mentally clicked Like sparring sword 
fight mailer daemons mortally wounded 
slain, viz healthy development stole.

Imprimatur indelibly etched decades 
after bout with passive exit from life
crimps psycho/social skills plus 
stunted physical growth butcher knife 

cuts affected mental health with panic 
attacks and anxiety though existence 
considerably less riddled debilitating 
symptoms (such as vertigo, racing heart, 
profuse sweating, nausea, irritable bowels)
courtesy prescription medications.


Premium Member Be the Cheerleader

Sometimes God will send people in your way
to either perk you up
wake you up from your stupor
or just pull you in the mood
My supervisor was just walking by
and all he said was "jingle bell, jingle bell"
and I felt myself lift up and finally in the Christmas mood
Did someone ever perk you up
do something for you that you feel like 
you have been touched by God himself?
That is what it feels like
All he did was singing
- the innocent act of kindness 
Bet he doesn't even know
Yet God used it to reach deep down in someone's inside
and made a permanent mark
Yes God will do that
So just live
Carry on
And be innocent as you can be
And be unreserved as you can let
Don't hold back
Let it all out
Be a cheerleader of the world
Be the ambassador
Be the magic keeper
Life is all - for you and for me
Let your spirit shine
Will you?

i know i'm late, so here's a picnic basket to make up for it

There is something so 
sad about fireworks. 
They're so flashy, 
pretty, and exciting, 
but as they fade it
makes you feel sort 
of lonely. 

Afterall, they're 
nothing more than 
a semi-permanent 
spark intended to 
entertain for a 
semi-permanent 
moment. 

The people that 
come into our lives 
are a lot like the 
fireworks: 

flashy, pretty, 
exciting.

Then 
we blink, 
and they 
fade. 

There is 
something so 
sad about fireworks. 

And there is 
something so 
lonely about being 
forced to participate  
in an event that you 
know isn't going to 
last forever. 

Bittersweet flash, 
bittersweet fade, 
bittersweet everything.

A Wriggle In Time

There once were a couple of worms 
Who perished; their very last squirms 
Such a long time ago -
46,000 years, so you’ll know -
Which a study by science confirms.

They were trapped in a permanent frost 
And would likely be forever lost 
But some gophers around
Dug them up from the ground
And before they were heedlessly tossed

A sharp scientist said, “Thaw them out!”
And, despite some reactions of doubt,
Into water they went
And ‘twas soon evident
They were wriggling slowly about.

Does this prove if we’re buried in ice
We can come back to life and live twice?
I’m not sure that applies
To our human-type size
And for me, once around will suffice.
Form: Limerick

I Love You More

the three legged dog scrounging trash cans for a meal in Allentown,
befriends the blind girl with her ragged doll, on her face a permanent frown. 

the mother in need of dangerous drugs, to make it through another day,
sells her wasting body to those who seek, these desperate souls who’ve lost their way. 

soup kitchens filled with greasy men, who walk the unforgiving streets,
their dreams lay shattered, their clothes all tattered, at night roll up in dirty sheets.

the rich man rolls down the darkened window, of his long black limousine,
and tosses quarters on the ground, and laughs at such a frantic scene,

of children scrambling, fighting, biting, to get their measly share,
to buy some candy at the grocery store, as puzzled people look and stare.

as nightfall comes, the trucks roll in to wash the city streets,
but cannot wash away the sadness here, that every day repeats.

the organ grinder with his monkey spots the blind girl in the park,
and puts a dollar in her hand, as the oriole whistles in the dark.

the mother following close behind, extends her hand, asking for more,
he hands another five, she thanks him, walks away and looks to score,

another bag of crack cocaine, as the little girl starts to cry,
“where is my little dog she asks”, the mother asks her why,

“I want my doggie, it’s my friend, and it loves me the best”,
her mother falls upon her knees, and holds her closely to her chest.

“no darling, it’s me that loves you, loves you so much more”,
together they run hand in hand, as the rain begins to pour.

now in rehab she proudly claims “three years today and I’m still clean”, 
happy together now at home, mother, daughter, and the dog they named Aileen’
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member One Stone Cold Heart

My father’s funeral, a sad occasion
but his cruel actions go beyond the grave

My sister had organised a display 
A silver frame contained a picture of his smiling face
Many other smaller photographs were scattered on the table

One picture in particular caught my eye
I’d never seen this photograph before …

One stone of cold chiselled grey granite 
Three generations of names embellished with gold letters
a permanent family memorial…
But MY name was missing

One of the mourners asked me why my name wasn’t there
It is a question I still don’t have an answer for


Two years have passed since he died …
I am still yet to grieve 

(This has been a very cathartic poem to write. I have since discovered that in 2007 my father organised for his name, my mother’s name and my sister’s name to be added to the family grave in Lithuania. Just the dates of death are missing… along with my name)


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11-05-17

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