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.


Bravo,Bravo

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!
Form: Ballade


Lost Love Story

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.

The Name

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....

Premium Member My Meraki Gifts

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
Form: Sonnet

Pink Planet Fantasy


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.
Form: Quatrain


Irony of Purpose

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!”
Form: Ode

Prologue 6


       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:

Premium Member Original Sin

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)
Form: Narrative

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace