Long Possessions Poems
Long Possessions Poems. Below are the most popular long Possessions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Possessions poems by poem length and keyword.
would …
you still love me ...
perchance I was half a man?
my carnal, physical core blasted from
me like ragged raiment
off to war in courage and heroic sacrifice
returned by God and country as
barely half of what I'd been -
the half that could never
again join with you in passion or
appease your bodily desires …
would you still love me?
imagine …
I was a monster -
deformed by happenstance or accident
still a man in the technical sense
but with face and sinews that
repulsed even me
and frightened children away
though the heart and spirit you adored
still thrummed earnestly inside -
still beat with love and desire and
careful intensity ...
would you still love me?
what …
if the day came -
(a stark reality as viable as any)
when I lost all of earthly value and worth -
all possessions and comforts
all conveniences and financial securities - gone
the talents and experience and innate
ability to support even myself
blown to the four winds by
careless fate or folly ...
would you still love me?
consider …
I’m human, but
turned completely inside-out -
the abyssal and dark, troubled corners
of my innermost being
worn on hapless bones like sodden skin
the fearful ids and psyches thus
laid bare by illness, time or substance -
free to dance like a demon for
the porcelain moon ...
would you still love me?
and pray …
what if I were YOU ...
and you were the reflection of all that
your dreams dared to weave
the horror and ecstasy that awakens
you sweaty in the night -
that shivers and turns to ice on your
fair, faultless, barren skin
terror choking the screams from
the tight of your chest
could you ...
would you, still …
love me??
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
Dear soup friends,
There’s no poem this morning; living in central Oklahoma is too sad and painful.
Any death is one too many, especially when innocent children are the victims. It’s almost more than the soul can bear, especially for those who have lost their families. Homes can be rebuilt, lost possessions replaced or forgotten, but not the lives of those held dear.
Ten miles south of total devastation, I am safe with my family, our lives not destroyed by a random yet ordinary natural event in Oklahoma, the third in the same area since 1999. I ask for your kind thoughts and remembrance as we struggle through the aftermath of nature’s wrath yet again.
Jack Jordan
The night air flowed over my breath
The covers not quite keeping me warm
Dreams caressing my past
My lover whispers in my ear
Sweet words, with her loving touch
Times long ago, where tenderness would flow
Her perfume flys away with the wind
Happy days my only true possessions
ahhh but love is not as it once was
Age makes the windmill turn slower
My lover caressing my pain
Raindrops falling, aroused in the wet rain
She my life, now I live with thoughts inane
Shivering,
She releases me from both pleasure and pain
Dreams of her splatter all over on top
My cover only a cardboard box
Wet from the weather
in the alley where I sleep
At dawn, there is a sharp pain in my rib
"out your bum, get the hell away"
Kicked and bruised I grab what I can
All I can think of is to run run run
Limping, onwards to the park
I feel a firm hand take hold of me
Stop young man, its raining cant you see?
Shocked I try to escape, fear invades me
In a softer tone the man says
Come with me son, out of the rain
The shelter is over there, close to your park
A warm meal, and and fresh bath will do you good
Father O'Brien pats the new one Davey on the back
Welcome son, here's a book if you care to read
Davey still in skeptical mode, being treated as human
Father O'Brien see this in his heavy eyes
He looks at Davey and whispers
I was once you, you see
The hand of love
Can mend a thousand hearts
When like the seeds of blooming flowers
We spread the love we were handed
Dreams taunt and memories haunt
Yet when awake, we tend to flaunt
Possessions material and mental
Neglecting soul transcendental
We go about with zest and zeal
Clinging to fleeting desires unreal
We look not for truth that is undying
Truth of our luminosity go on denying
Religions are but a control mechanism
No ism ignites our mind-body prism
Empty words offer us no reprieve
Show us God, His light retrieve
God search, if we intend to start
First things first, meld head and heart
Divine aligned, following the scent of love
We invoke grace, blessings pour from above
Our disdain at the beggar outside the church
Is surely not the way to begin God search
Praying from the pews in deep trance
Alters not our piquant circumstance
Slow down thought, soften attention
Let each life breath be soul’s meditation
The light of the sun shines equally upon all
Peace beyond understanding we finally recall
21-March-2023
Shooting sixty four rapids in the time stream
Powder milk biscuits helped yours truly,
a Norwegian farmer wannabe feel bold
enough to weather inclement
steady rain which swirled, pooled,
and eddied around rolled
up pant legs skinny ankles, which
immediately felt cold,
though frigid sensation I extolled
before undertow willingly
steadily, and nimbly pulled this former
ace swimmer into watery fold
quelling, relinquishing, and taking
my hard won mettle of gold
earned early in primetime, now
at last...preemptive quiescent salvation
sluiced into unbarred
Davy Jones's locker hold
meeting his maker
yours truly made in fleshy mold
buffer dis future papa gets tubby old
all me eager life possessions
long since donated and/or sold,
thus the final countdown
found yours truly submerged
for no rhyme, nor reason told
as I blissfully headed into the webbed
wide woebegone watery wold.
Whiling away the hours
quintessentially lollygagging
within pristine environs of Bangalore
bushwhacking an arduous chore
preservation, no longer will eyes explore
of course said dreamy forevermore
glorious hoary idyll merely
knowingly, and imaginatively
buzzfeeds capital one desire i.e. alone
in the wilderness penchant – furthermore,
escape madding crowd
thick with village people galore
offload mein kampf bon jure
yaws true well lee washed away
in briny deep pull lore
“FAKE," & figuratively, hypothetically,
ably tipped, gypped,
and drowned ma poor
wet tin his every pore,
this March 21st, 2023
(ewe could Hermes faintly
bleating after mighty roar)
of ocean riptide off back
body electric far from shore,
soaking wet tha top n bot hum
'o me soggy mossy noggin,
wharf fanta seas
waterlogged optima gills, this papa
caught in reverie as stevedore
Immune to the deafening thunder of Thor.
Finally I’m finding me the findings I was blind to see, my weakness is how I can be manipulated and deceived, the time I gave that wasn’t mine stolen leaving me behind, too quick to lend my hand and help disadvantaging myself, putting others first I fail undeveloped underwhelmed, not helping to win them over just don’t like them going under, I know what it’s like to suffer without thought help them recover, happiness is valuable, possessions money mean sod all, when you want the best for people sometimes you forget there’s evil, you forget the hate and bitter, because you don’t compete to better, you see good in human nature, you don’t care for rep or stature, some see weakness their advantage, they don’t help they choose to damage, you forget to understand desperate people need upper hands, submissive to help those in pain, those who really play a game, exploiting empathy for gain, out to guilt trip placing blame, but now I know the problem is tolerating fools like this, who know I cannot resist, learning life creates the twist, I have never been my strongest, honestly from now I promise, I come first
I had a dream yet maybe it was the dream that had me
while I am on a rough journey that I had not intended
the final separation from my partner and lover
who is on her own path of self-discovery
that does not hold any place for me any longer
I held a vessel in both of my hands a boat float or barque
that held all my material and emotional possessions
there was some sort of cabin a home and centre point
then the mud arrived and submerged everything there was
when I began to scratch the surface most everything was gone
but two Olive trees close to each other but not intertwined
my sub-conscience did not reveal whether it was her and I
or her with a new man or maybe another woman
it could be me with a new partner as well in due course
the bigger tree was her with no doubt this is what she wanted
the other merely a measly shrub but with some sprouts trying their best
maybe just two trees of life showing there is some connection
that the soil is fertile and floods slides and disasters would pass
the most important revelation however appears to be
that even after the deluge I was still holding the vessel
and the slimy sludge may well hold the fare for the future
can you imagine yourself a young girl from Nighastan?
who is thirteen, and never stepped foot in regular school?
toiling day and night, taking care of siblings and housework,
her smile reminds of fresh-bloomed rose, no cameras capture.
can you imagine yourself a young boy from Labonga,
works in a factory for hours and hours since he was eight?
he is still respectful and humble, polite and thankful,
happy as a lark if sometimes he gets to fly a kite.
wish we were supremely gorgeous princes and princesses,
wearing sparkling gucci outfits, flying in private jets -
(talking how to support the poverty-stricken third world)
we watch their lavish weddings, their destination travels,
and secretly sigh for extravagant life we don't have!
met some of those amazingly courageous boys and girls,
who do not complain about their uneventful tough lives,
they accept their hardest journey with humble compliance -
thank god sincerely for their meager plainest possessions!
I imagine - if I had the power to change the world,
I would make their world blissful. surrounded by purest joy,
I would hold her dainty hand, and pore over fairy tales,
I would run without bounds in the open field with the boy.
those children would teach me to be grateful with simplest things,
and to smile joyful smile which nobody can ever snatch.
Poet's Notes: The poem is written on the model of Shakesperean sonnet (14 syllables in each line - exception being there are four Quatrains instead of three).
January 23, 2021
For "Can You Imagine" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
It was an ordinary funeral,
nothing striking—except the strange restraint of the living.
The coffin, made of somber wood, bore an inscription,
succinct, sincere, almost brutal:
In this world, no one takes anything away.
And just below,
like the advice of an old master to his absent-minded disciple:
Be humble, and thank even your enemies.
Take pleasure, as much as you can, in your passage.
I stood there,
mute, wordless,
my heart suspended at the edge of the abyss,
and I reflected.
On those days we treat as possessions,
as if time obeyed our will.
On those objects we hoard—
when we fear we might mean nothing.
On those grudges we nurture
like cherished treasures.
On that “tomorrow” we distrust,
on the tenderness we muzzle,
on the forgiveness we ration
as if it were scarce currency.
On the life we neglect
in the name of a later no clause has ever guaranteed.
But the hour comes—inevitably—
when all is left behind.
What we thought we owned fades into shadow.
What we managed to give might endure.
A hand extended.
A gentle memory lodged in another’s mind.
Life is not measured by rewards.
It is felt in the trace of sincere impulses.
So live with integrity, with heart.
Love without contract or condition.
Laugh even if the order of the world wavers.
Weep if your soul overflows with pain.
Forgive without expecting anything in return.
And above all,
do not postpone
what, today,
might make life vibrate.
For that evening will come
when the dawn no longer breaks.
And on that day,
no one—
I say it plain—
takes anything away.
When I think about the LORD and
His having a plan for my life,*
I rejoice that He cares so much-
His everlasting love so rife
When a young girl on the farm
Life was hard but it was charmed
As children there were no stresses
Lots of joy with little guesses
We could come and go at will
Over the valleys, through the fields
Stop to wade in the shallow creek-
Never did make life seem bleak-
We could stop to talk to the cows
They had names they knew somehow,
They would stand still chewing their cud
Contented cows liking their woods
Nature taught us such lessons
Consistency with few possessions:
The rivers run; the birds in flight;
Sun and moon rotate day and night
Our family taught by doing chores
Both inside and out of doors
Where the blue cornflowers swayed
As we worked the day away
I think about the LORD and
His having a plan for our lives,*
I rejoice that He cares so much
In His everlasting love we abide
-Evelyn Pearl Carpenter Anderson
*From Jeremiah 29:11"