Long Personalize Poems
Long Personalize Poems. Below are the most popular long Personalize by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Personalize poems by poem length and keyword.
Each aspect and component is
an art of performance
module it is glossaried
and relatates to
terms from many genres's
and professions.
A matrix were
an adult is usaally used
to determine what is safe for usage
Due to the writers point
and counter points
a adivsory is
used so that each word
might be defined and
elimanated
to avoid uncomfortable
word usage which might
distract from the original
purpose of the piece.
Cantrix maybe
from anther industry
:but has agreed to to collaborate
through a contract
which decribes her duties
and obligations.
The higher octave
the High _C..
She left music
to make more money
in the A>ENtertainment
industry. When someone
was interested
in her voice
she quickly drew a contract
thinking the fella
wanted to: you know.
well they became freinds.
and this allowed
song writer to
personalize tthe sound arrangements
both lyric and music in the right
genre and using the right type
of instruments
to illustrate
the clumbsness and
okwardnss
of meeting and forming
a freindship
through akwardness.
Use with permission
Eletricity+2H20----->2H2+02
all considerations to made
advancements for
profitbility of usage.
2029 the Year of Sceince!
The heart that has taken on many parts, the lead role in every play,
Stands up on stage too many times, after a while he forgets his name,
Lost in the illusion, gaining attention from every side,
He starts to personalize every role directing his very life,
A love letter catches his eye from a distant lifetime ago,
Awakening him from the illusion to face a love he's long sinced known,
Shaking him from the dream, bringing his heart back to his roots,
Defying the image in the mirror he sees, this love he misunderstood,
Out of the woods and back to his heart, he gives his identity away,
Recognizing his soul from a past long ago, before he ever lost his way,
After the crowd applauses, he steps away to be alone,
And reads the love letters one more time, for the innocence to find his way home,
An angel stood beside him, unseen and unheard from the crowd,
She took his hand to face the pain, to bring his heart back somehow,
At first he fought her tooth and nail, and pushed the letters away,
She begged and pleaded, you must see the truth, or your heart will truly fade,
He said I will replace this love, there is no time to face this fear,
But the angel warned him, if you regress, you'll be hiding this love for years,
You will be in the moment, here and now, with some happiness from time to time,
But you will always look back, missing your true love, searching for her the rest of your life.
Heart searching eyes,
Responding to personalize,
Feelings interwoven,
Ties that can't be broken,
The soul yearns to free this heart,
It is part of who you are,
Say nothing if you must deny,
It is better than telling yourself lies,
Who you are,,,,no better than the other,
Just a name doesn't bring us together,
The shallow may label on this earth,
But the heart is always eventually unearthed,
What was that? You say you can't have both,
Has the fear stricken, and judgemental scare you the most?,
To deny the name you were given at birth?
Do you honestly believe that depletes your worth?,
My dear friend, don't deny this part,
It is a piece of who you are,,,,,
Will the shallow come looking once you've given it away?
Yes, but fear plays no part, you must see past that game,
Your love is stronger for yourself and others,
Why do think God has allowed us to meet one another....
My Meraki Gifts
So special are some days to celebrate
for family and dearest friends I know;
a joy that fills my heart is to create
a splendid card for each, my love to show.
I blend my gifts of art and poetry
to personalize each and every one,
designed with help of new technology;
computer art, my words, then print when done.
How special to present my unique cards
with names upon and wishes that hit home;
a joy for me to show the deep regards
I have for each with art and words my own.
With soul, deep love and creativity,
each card presents a little piece of me.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: In The Moment
Sponsor: Heidi Sands
Judged: 06/18/2018
~2nd Place~
Contest: Meraki
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 12/21/2017
"Meraki [may-rah-kee] (adjective) This is a word that modern Greeks often use to describe doing something with soul, creativity, or love — when you put “something of yourself” into what you're doing, whatever it may be. Oct 20, 2010" - Google
Come with a smile,
come with a wink.
Come to the land
of pink, pink, pink.
Imagine
yourself
as a pale pink fairy,
wearing an earring
that's a pink clip-on,
and real pastel pink petals
held in your pinkie,
pointing to the pink chink
glow upon the horizon
at dawn.
The garden's dye this July
is floral pink blossoms.
And at times I do
have such pinkish dreams,
where everything is hued
in pink ice-creams.
Where I own a fine
posh pink cadillac,
parked in a pink chateau
festooned
with fallen pink lilac.
That,
overlooking
a pink sea
ebbing on pink pebbles,
where a pink moon
looks like big bubbles.
In pink colors,
if I could customize
'n'
personalize
my world:
so pink cushions all about,
and pink curtains unfurled!
My birthdays always wish
for pink balloons.
Oh, I love to decorate
and celebrate
with pink festoons.
And nature lovers could watch
salmon pink flamingoes
who stand upon one leg,
hiding
half their pink toes.
Or even bunny rabbit eyes
in bright pink glows.
Ah, pink's so feminine.
Think of pink hair pins,
pink lips 'neath two pink
blush cheeks,
right above cute
chinny chins,
or as buds in a rosebush
take pinkish peeks.
I see as well baby pink
frocks
and frilled pink socks,
and pink pom-pom caps
upon golden locks,
their pink sashes behind
them upon the walks.
Ah, I've always believed,
and still I think,
that pinkish is girlish and
girlish is pink.
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
We stare with grim satisfaction
Because the black winged Angel
Ridding a flaming chariot tells a tale;
And proclaims that God is love,
Yet he, himself is an Angel of death.
Day after wretched day Humanity walks!
He walks down the dark alley of freedom;
Freedom which shouts fairness;
Fairness that begets confusion—
And he tries to bottle the spittle of birds…
Every night he lies in bed and tries to hear
The voice of fishes shouting gender and Sexualty in a world where the scale of
Equality is unevenly proportional and
Equal rights mean the oppression of men.
Apartheid, the history of Mzanzi is
The present for the African world and
That has caused his inferiority complexes
To suffice and personalize racism and
One after another, generations play along.
Lest we forget,
The victims are just as guilty
As the perpetrators but at some point.
Humanity weeps as he inspects
His isle of hopelessness!
But just like the majority, men;
They cry in hiding.
Where no-one sees,
No-one hears and
No-one dares speak for the black sheep!
Deep down this egocentric radicalism,
He orders rotten eggs to make an omelette
With which he feeds pirate justice,
And he goes all year long
On a running stomach.
Although the words never sink,
Humanity hearkens to
The rumbling stomach of justice but
When the rainbow of life turns
Grey!
Humanity's children cry day and night
While the Angel of death entrusted
Their protection feasts on their tears
And dances to the beautiful sound
Of their troubled voices.
And when the wolf comes for their
Brazen souls we hail at the smiling lady
Who says 'I am virgin Mary'
With fangs behind her white vail
And poison under her tongue—death!
The rich are poor but morally,
Yet no-one sees
And no-one cares;
They say 'each one for himself'
Come shall the final hour do.
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
Humanity looks on
And passes his judgement.
The masked preacher scoffs:
“No-one is perfect.
No, not one!”
Gus got all of those who were allowed to attend
and "available" settled in around his big oak table.
He even put in an extra leaf to accomodate,
so there was enough space to keep from
slap fights and infighting of kin. He handed out
charmingly and diplomatically, the swami hats each containing an indian feather and a bedazzle kit- stone standard. He didn't have time to personalize
a moniker, this would have to do in a pinch.
Speaking of pinching weiners, Gus had to go to the bathroom, and was potty dancing and squinching,
this whole seance thing and having the floor for
everyone's attention was getting him excited.
On his way to the bathroom, he noticed Silky had
already fashioned his into a pimp hat,
cocked to the side as he slapped Penney for good measure to help break the hat in.
Penney fashioned hers into a pirate hat and shot Silky a look of smug mutiny. Kenny was too busy dealing
Vatican 2 pedopriest some product to personalize his for the moment. Gus pulled the hat from LizPiggo's
mouth and made his way, forgetting he locked
Nancy and Chuck in there and took a two story wiz
out the window. What a story! they were embarking
on indeed, was all he could think about,
except for the fact that he couldn't use the kitchen
sink because he couldn't find his step stool and
the arc of his stream no matter how proficient his trajectory would go all over the floor on re entry
unless he jumped toward the sink in the final throes.
He remembered what happened last time.
Wet floors and jumping were a wicked mix.
After he heard the voices seemingly coming from somewhere close "out there", he shook
the distraction off
and resolved to get back in there and get this seance underway. The spirits needed him !...
Form:
Buddhists don’t talk of original sin
The way Christians do,
But they both talk about the same thing;
That in the beginning there was light
And the Word, and the missing of the mark.
For Buddhists this “sin” is basic ignorance,
The ignoring of who and what we are.
For Buddhists experience is divided
Into two basic categories;
Enlightened, or Nirvana, and
Deluded, or Samsara.
Nirvana is peace.
Samsara is suffering.
The experience of each are thus polar opposites,
But the simple original sin,
The fundamental deviance,
Is that Samsara arose from the desire
To improve Nirvana, our original nature.
So Samsara is Nirvana plus desire,
The desire to personalize it,
Put our mark of identity on what was
Already always perfect.
To extend the cross cultural metaphor
You could say we wanted to give it
The mark of the beast.
And that’s how we lost the light.
(8/16/26)
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