Long Precedes Poems
Long Precedes Poems. Below are the most popular long Precedes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Precedes poems by poem length and keyword.
Probation sounds too probing,
kinda dirty
and/or messy,
probably says we didn't work out,
Then reset
try again
with closer
and more sobering supervision.
We all live within win/win shadows
of non-reprobation
non-violence
non-dominant ambiguous supremacies
Probation
precedes Integration
needing wants to work-out
together,
like hypotheses
and conclusions
Reset win/lose competitions
toward win/win cooperative
re-beginnings
Try again
evaluating wider
warmer
happier
more inclusive
polycultural health
and safer resilience
within heated community
and eco-justice brilliance
social
and political
green feminist implications
Of recognizing
appreciating
celebrating
what all creatures want,
regardless of age
nation
tribe
gender
culture
Need to feel spiritually mentally healthy
and physically safe,
To have an eco-political mastery of voice
contributing to cooperative social agency
Connecting
and reconnecting/re-ligioning
re-communing
with other win/win-intentions
non-violently communicating tensions
on our better days,
and probably micro-aggressively miscommunicating
on our lesser co-invest
in good-humored retention
more retributive
snarky days
When our edibles
render us
nearly inaudible
while on loser probation,
not feeling Earth's promise
of sacred integrity for all
Where right-brain appositions
reconsider left-brain defiant oppositions
in dialectical-fractal mindfulness probations
both hypothetical
and regenerative
hope-filled bicameral
bilateral
bipartisan
binomial integrations.
*Image of White Lies by PToday.
Kill With Truth Or Live a Lie
Innocence precedes with their mouth,
Bold-step, no Fred Astaire,
Unashamed, not from the deep south,
Turn a smile amid glare.
Embellished claims, "Friends to the bitter end,"
Advent sketched destiny...a reflection,
Candid critiques retards the heart--transcend.
'Twas best to conspire words of perfection,
Now rivals are close, turns I to pretend,
A picture's worth a thousand subjection.
Age turns to face, choices regret,
Quick death or suffering,
Was it stanza two? I forget.
Third stanza? I'm laughing.
2023 January 04
*HMS.
Simply present, with thoughts rested,
awareness self-aware yet purrs
celebrating being alive,
wherefrom creative impulse stirs.
Soul's uniqueness chooses a beat
distilled within our glowing heart,
igniting within mind a spark,
enabling thought patterns to start.
Childlike innocence emotes love
but ego cravings have their say,
identified with mind-body,
causing both heart and mind to sway.
Love employs no force and so waits
for consciousness to become still,
which happens when head melds with heart,
fully aligned with divine will.
Employing free will we may choose
path self-serving or unity,
loving God's presence in all forms;
each breath, an opportunity.
Intent precedes thought, so let's pause,
first enhancing love's vibration,
that actions in thought, word and deed,
entwines us with God’s creation.
24-November-2022
I’ve not let what is broken
So remain broken.
The heart, though fragile
Is too pertinacious not to lie in dust.
So it is after she broke the heart
Harmattan is then only a foetus
When she suddenly appeared
Out of the converging mist
To fan the ember of a heart
She made lone to be cold
In the dry pathetic harmattan.
Can swallows return back
In their flight away from winter
If there be no inferno yonder?
True Love cannot be glad to wear
A crown if it is meant to shave.
O fated son of Anwu!
I came forth while my heart
Beats carthasis
As she kisses me, a death-kiss
And holds my palms to her breasts
Her succulent breasts, my death-bed
And my hands fumbled to her
Buxom backside, my grave yard;
With the sign that if the love dies
The man must die with it!
That night that precedes the day
The day she is gone
While I grieve the grieve of Hades
I received from her her very words
“I will never let you go.”
Which I hid in my heart
To forestall tears behind deep sorrow.
We would have sacrificed everything
Except to sacrifice not to love
Whether it upsets human and custom
To love is to live, to live is for love.
Is there one who can become
A burnt offering to a worthless love?
Even the Son died for worthless souls,
The king of earth and sky mindful
Of mere dust to be redeemed.
Do not prolong my fears, my worries
My pains, People of Anwu
A real and dignified heart does not
Simply replace what is broken
But to mend and redeem
The Sunny Month of July
She skips from me in a playful romp
Among the fields, yellowy plump.
Her laughter echoes sprightly alive
In the sunny month of July.
To the chase, I engage in play
And call out her name, beckoning, “Wait!”
Yet she lights on her feet—proceeds,
‘Til my breath pause, but I am happy.
Then, she reverses and saunters towards me
With the russet earth on her feet.
Her spirit precedes her arrival,
Rendering comfort ever so cordial.
These days of sky-blue deep and white-cloud fleece
Bring rapturous joy I wish wouldn’t cease.
Fondly, we frolic and bide our time
In the sunny month of July.
Ambient August night
Stars dotted skies
Moon light cast no shadows
Thoughts perfectly aligned.
The trees are dazzled
In peaceful resonance they dance
To the mesmerised wind songs
Mind finally at self peace.
Gentle breeze surrounds
All around the kids gambol
Fireflies light up the skies
Soul sojourned in a village square.
Lightening precedes the thunder
Hues upon hues mingled in echoes
Divine lights in cosmic arrays
All captured onto portable display screens.
Mosquitoes and bugs in the dark
Body partially covered in cotton cloths
Seated on a stool by the fire side
Listening to tales from granny.
History foretold in native tongues
vivid images of antiquity painted with words
by the fire side everything comes alive
Hazy moon ,sweet dew ,Africa is home.
He knows the sum of all your days,
the secret of your hidden ways.
Your thoughts, the meaning of each look,
are in his eyes an open book.
The course in life that you would take,
and foolish mistakes you would make,
His eyes discern though yours are blind,
With vision vast He reads your mind.
He both precedes and follows you
and wants to prosper all you do.
If you would get to know His name,
He’ll help you live life without shame.
Don’t let His knowledge frighten you.
Ask Him to guide in all you do.
You can’t escape His searching eyes,
So, seek His help to make you wise.
When you were in your mother’s womb,
His plan was that your life would bloom,
diffusing blessings to mankind
as you engage your awesome mind.
Run not from Him, you cannot hide.
Ask Him instead your life to guide,
Fulfilling what He had in mind,
when He created humankind.
Advice has no use to the ‘know all’
But pride often precedes a fall
Crass indignation when questioned
Denying each truth that is mentioned
Evidence he calls refutable
Facts, he says, aren’t indisputable
Grey is the colour of dubious knowledge
Hark at the novice as he enters college
If one week of lectures makes him feel all knowing
Just grin politely at ignorance showing
Kith and kin revel in such peace and quiet
Life is so peaceful, it’s almost a riot
Motor mouth’s gone for a couple of years
No doubt he’ll grow something between his ears
Or will he just come home as bad as before
Pounding our eardrums until they are sore
Quoting past monarchs that once held dominion
Recited - ignoring conflicting opinion
So if you know someone who ‘knows more than God’
Tell him that learning’s no sprint but a plod
Utter confusion may darken his face
Vitriol, soon will take confusion’s place
“What do you know, you’re so uneducated,
X-Ray your brain; you’ll find you’re overrated.”
Yet, when it’s back off to college tomorrow
Zero shame shown when he says, “Could I borrow…..”
I can't remember
how many friends I had
after I departed to Illinois.
It's true they were far away and
I enjoyed their affection
only through the mail
with its own kind of sensuosness.
The tracings of pens and pencils,
dribblings and stains
informed me of bodies.
.
How much they professed missing me
and asked for my return.
To be asked when you are coming back
is one of the most touching endearments,
especially when you
have no intention to.
I should have felt beloved.
.
I thought I was superman in those days.
So kind and knowing.
Knowledge always precedes education.
Education only refines, adds patina,
gains you names, arguments,
but knowledge is constant.
I survive by inventing theories.
Workers in the rice fields,
Labourers on agrarian land,
They move in rows and columns,
They work assiduously until they are spent,
Until twilight wears its garment over the region.
It's the golden season,
The season that precedes the dry,
It’s a season when the land yields bountifully,
The land births a teeming population,
Nature has smiled over the fields.
They gather their harvest in silos and local shelters,
There’s enough for the home and market,
Then comes the annual festival,
They sing songs in their indigenous dialect,
They come out in colourful attire,
They extol Nature for his kind and merciful acts.
The town is a shadow of itself,
It sits in forlorn hope,
A lonely wind sweeps through its streets,
The fields have become a haven for birds and unseen creatures,
Land dispute, encroachment and trampled rights,
These threesomes have stripped the land of its beauty,
They have pushed the town down the cliff.
November 8, 2022.
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 22 Poetry Contest,
Mark Toney.