Long Planned Poems
Long Planned Poems. Below are the most popular long Planned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Planned poems by poem length and keyword.
Mothers should be celebrated
Every single day,
But instead it’s once a year –
Well, what is there to say?
You enter into parenthood
And do what you must do.
Quite often, in a family,
The mothers are the glue.
We hold it all together
With a little help from dad;
And wonder, when our kids grow up
What life they’ll think they had.
Psychologists assign us blame.
We must be trauma’s cause;
But hopefully, with age, such thoughts
Will give our children pause.
Perhaps they’ll somehow understand
The depth of how we feel
And recognize a mother’s love
Is bottomless and real.
It’s lovely to receive a card,
Store-bought or made by hand,
‘Cause it acknowledges that sometimes
Things work out as planned.
And, in addition, if you get
To see your kids this day,
Appreciate the fact
Good fortune holds you in its sway.
Mothers’ Day will soon be gone
Yet if you are in luck,
That glue that you set long ago
Will still be strongly stuck.
for PD's Early Mothers' Day Contest
Written By: D. Collins 12/19/18
Patty-cake, Patty-cake, baker's man.
Things didn't happen the way you planned.
Now the subject of investigations galore.
Soon, Mueller will be knocking at your door.
Patty-cake, Patty-cake, it does not look good.
You'd take it all back, if you thought you could.
Mr. "High I.Q." isn't very smart at all.
Rikers Island will be your new "Border Wall".
Patty-cake, Patty-cake, this is not "Fake News".
Justice is coming after all of your crew.
Your offshore accounts will soon come to light.
And, there'll be nothing left for your current wife.
What Nixon did cannot compare to you.
You'll sport a custom-tailored orange jumpsuit.
Jared, Ivanka, and Junior won't be far behind.
Then, America will be great, one more time.
The merchandise looked perfect
Longing to have this master's work
Everything about it would make my life complete
The legs were perfect even and balanced
Even the color of the merchandise glowed and I desired
It spoke to me of how it would fit in a nook in my lonely life
I planned and planned how I could have it
Dreaming day and night
The day finally arrived
It was delivered to my home but where I placed it
The whole area it consumed
It seem to overpower everything
The color so beautiful at the store
Became dull unfashionable
In my life it became a bore
Looking at the monstrousity
As it smiled so cunningly at me
I wanted to throw it out the door
I called Salvation Army come get this merchandise
Remove it out my door
I should have know that it was a White Elephant
The minute I eyed it at the store!!!
Jessie James was a fine young lad,
When he joined the Confederate troops.
He learned his craft as a shootist and spy,
While traveling with this group.
His commander was one Capt. William Quantrill,
A man with a checkered past;
And under this man he learned hit and run,
Leave your enemies standing aghast.
After his death in 1865,
Quantrill's celebrity stayed,
And Jessie and Frank used what they had learned,
And found guerrilla warfare paid.
They formed with their friends a wild outlaw band,
And looted the banks and trains.
It seemed to work out just as they planned.
To them it seemed quite a good game.
The money came easy and life was good,
And Jessie took him a wife;
Deciding to settle down for a while,
And lead a respectable life;
But two men were killed in a robbery gone bad,
And the governor wanted his life;
And one of his friends thought he'd turn him in,
And get paid and save himself strife.
Dead or Alive made no difference to him,
The reward would still be the same,
But Jessie was fast and his aim was true,
So it seemed to Bob Ford it was plain,
Jessie would have to be caught unawares,
If he would celebrity claim,
The honor, prestige, reward and glory,
As the man who shot Jessie James.
April the third, eighteen eighty-two,
Robert crept up on his friend,
Shot him in the back as a coward will do,
And that's how his story ends;
But Robert lived on in shame and disgrace,
As a low down, back stabbing coward,
Who betrayed his friend for money and fame,
On the day that he shot Thomas Howard.
"AND JESUS SAID UNTO PETER,'PUT UP AGAIN YOUR SWORD INTO IT'S PLACE FOR ALL THEY WHO TAKE THE SWORD SHALL PERISH BY THE SWORD."
Matthew 26:52
For Dana's History Contest
I do not like to get snootlgsh this early in the day
But I heard this tale from my whartlesnot of a neighbor
And even though she is sometimes titlewhemp
I felt the tale had some merit, and it was a fun tale to repeat.
So here goes…..
Farglesmean Whomplesplat was driving along highway 140
When a smelly black and white kipperstink walked out in front of her
Not being fond of tomato juice, and this being her new tacklepoo,
She slammed on her brakes, causing a carslerump
A breathofdeath was called to the scene by six people.
In full uniform, the breathofdeath walked to her car to write her a tootlerack.
Of course she was wearing the sexy low-cut polka dotted fizzlsprint she always wears.
Her right corplfunk was practically waving in the breathofdeath’s face.
She used her breathiest voice, naturally.
Pretending the carslerump was someone else’s fault.
I am nodding in a snootlgsh way, wanting this whartlesnot of a neighbor to get on with it.
The kipperstink was long gone, and no one else claimed to have seen it.
I am nodding harder, wanting the punch line.
The officer reached in to get her license and accidentally touched her corplfunk.
Oh, she planned that! I shriek, delighted.
His face turned as red as a strawberry.
And she got away without a tootlerack, I guessed.
We howled with laughter thinking of this.
Our birthright is to clearly see
What God reveals and speaks of thee
In spirit's realm, we must engage
Before things manifest on life's stage
To this majestic force we yield
Our worldly discourse now revealed
With Christ, we rise to heavenly places
And embrace a life of new graces
A resurrected lifestyle we lead
Empowered to meet our every need
As we grasp the depth of this truth
We ascend to higher view
From this vantage point, we boldly face
Earthly challenges with steadfast grace
For in this higher, sacred sphere
Doubt and fear no longer interfere
Our purpose and destiny to fulfill
And live out what God planned with skill
For we are free, our spirits fly
To reach the heights and touch the sky.
How You Feel and How God Feels Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
Contest Judged: 8/25/2025 12:00:00 AM
( 1st Place )
Written: August 10, 2025
( Inspired by Isaiah 55 and reflecting on hope and faith. )
I come not full, but open wide,
With hands unfurled quietly yearning.
Your vows fall like gentle rain--
Words that flow from wells unending!
Through the clouds silver-haired persist.
I count on the daybreak You foster,
The meadow's bare-- still run deep.
Your stillness does not imply You sleep.
Faith takes small steps on shaky ground---
trusting quietly in what You’ve planned.
Your word-- like mist may sometimes fade,
but harvest waits for gentle hands.
You say, “Come and take, no cost at all,”
so I bring trust, not trying to fall.
My heart feels weak but still reaches out,
toward waters flowing without a shout.
You see me, not just struggling hard,
but waiting patiently, and yet still thrives.
And in your eyes
I'’m not alone--
I’m known and loved
deeply known.
For every sacrifice, there will be
a reward awaiting; a crown for a beauty,
a trophy for an athlete
whose forehead drips with sweat;
and a standing ovation
for all who firmly believe in peace and unification.
For every smile you offer
to the homeless and beggar....
savoring the harshness of winter,
is a flame that can radiate heat;
quarters and dimes, or even a dollar
hasn't much value now days, but for them they do.
For every thought you bring forth,
it must be expressed with a dignified intent;
no foul play planned to get vengeance and feel full,
think before you act, try to avoid a conflict...
fits of anger can ruin a good friendship,
find out the facts, and control your mood.
For every love and fortune you admire and wish to have,
you must merit it, and sometimes you need to take giants steps,
before anyone can see you reaping the joys that induced it;
what is given with a big heart, is returned in a thousand folds...
anything you deprive yourself of, to make that person happy and feel loved,
is a permanent imprint that time itself is unable to erase.
For every small victory won when hope seems faint,
there is a story worth writing on a battlefield which doesn't know calm;
and they restlessly keep on watching the starry shore until light awakens their ship;
their promise cannot be broken by the dreading fears outlasting the uncertain dawn...
for every sacrifice they make, brings serenity to their loved Motherland,
and their time is not wasted chasing after foolish things, but it extends beyond love.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The waiting cute texts,
Affixed with the warmth of my heart,
Greeted with the promising intent,
Eager to flash in front of your eyes,
Meanwhile, you become offline,
It feels similar to a tragedy,
Certainly planned by me,
and the resulting suffering.
Comprehending a bit distant you,
I cease not to eliminate the lagging miles,
In contrast, you run away with a high velocity,
When exhausted me, settles to relax,
I realise your glance mocking at me,
It's like a funny circus,
My wisdom missing somewhere
And, desperate me, entertains you.
Originally published on blog Words of Anvi.
I look out my window
And can't see the ground.
As I step out to look,
I see snow all around.
There was so much snow,
For these parts, it's wild.
I haven't seen this much
Snow since I was a child.
I ran through the house
To get my children.
We dressed up warm
So we wouldn't be shiverin'.
Then we headed outside
To build our snowman,
But things didn't go
The way we had planned.
I barely saw it coming,
I hardly caught its sight.
That snowball that started
This here snowball fight!
We played in the snow
Until we were freezing cold.
The memories we made
Are worth more than gold.