Long Precise Poems
Long Precise Poems. Below are the most popular long Precise by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Precise poems by poem length and keyword.
The need to talk to the Heavenly Father
Despair moment
Struggle barrier
Guidance in advice
Understanding that is precise
Talk and tears being sincere
The need for an uplift to preserver
Through the shadows into the depths of uncertainty
I will not fear
The Holy one is always near
Having a stronger Faith
The need to stand and face reality
Every length
The width domain
Deliverance now and forever
Endure the endurance
Encouragement influence
Conquering Satan’s block
Breaking the struggle that bind
Prayer time
You are genuine
Through the valley’s below and the mountains above
Your name I will always think of.
The ocean is wide as these troubles,
That our children are yet to be faced with.
The ocean is warm as that I cannot remember,
Yet that which almost froze me to death.
The ocean is deep as this love of not this pain.
Knowing this my lady long looking at you,
I cannot help but wonder,
How deep your heart if not love might be,
How much pain you might leave me with,
Should you not find pleasure in your stay.
Maybe should your stay be desired elsewhere.
Where you too might desire to be.
However if there is what I can do to keep you.
I will do that and more to see you stay.
However it is in one's choice to stay.
A precise prophet predicted in his books,
That a woman will free a man.
Here you are.
You have given me freedom and beyond.
For this I am grateful and beyond.
Someone said a man cannot do without a woman,
Yet I can do without a woman,
However I cannot do without you,
Yet you are a woman,
I guess I cannot do without a woman afterall.
For this even if we were given a thousand years,
To live still this love would live throughout,
Then remain in the air after we're gone.
A father fell asleep first before his child.
While a mother sang a lullaby to their child.
We are children after all.
Let me grow old with you.
If you cannot then let me grow young instead.
With you.
Some things do not belong in some places.
So for this if it is not I you are ever with,
Then come home.
For the dust of land cannot rest upon the clouds,
But upon land where it belongs.
You are my dust as I am your land.
If I am not home then you have none.
Some one must invent a smart machine right now
To serve peoplekind immediately with a feeder
A device that serves up sunflower seeds with hydraulics
Through a small tube attachment that fits in the mouth
Pumps seeds slowly and efficiently with no spillage
Made of gold and rubber for comfort on the lips
Each tiny kernel must be counted out efficiently
Long trips in luxury requires efficiency when eating
Machines must be marketed for the privileged
Priced for the wealthy far out of reach
Ordinary people can eat with dirty fingers
Seeds are too sophisticated to figure out
The kind of personalities that need everything just right
Just right now they require sunflower feeders power
The Jet set crowd and higher to be precise need this device
Only savages eat seeds with fingers
Sun Flower kernel feeders are a luxury
A must, a necessity of life
Invent them right away, right now
Buy more than one to feel alive
One for the helicopter, home and yacht
They must come in hydraulic yellow
Priced higher than the sky above the clouds
Leave the poor to feed themselves
Don't tell the birds what you have done
They have the sun but not the money
Let them forage for something else
I want conversations
with writers and poets
The wise the wacky
the dark and the stoic
I need to drink your words
I fear my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic
Writers and poets
Dig down to the deep
Some are more honest
Others have secrets to keep
Some can herd cats
or people like sheep
If you tell a good story
I’ll sacrifice my sleep
The complicated mind
Within phrases revealed
Multilayered thinking
Special nuggets concealed
Tongues sharp and precise
master poets do wield
If used like a surgeon
The recipient is healed
So talk to me wordsmiths
all of you clever poets
The wise the wacky
The dark and the stoic
I want to drink your words
Yes my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic!
Observing Earth
Look up
Embrace
I see confusion and unrest
No understanding all contest
No togetherness
I sit high being the witness
The Earth needs wisdom
It comes from the Kingdom
It seems Earth wants to prove
Things are not going smooth
The Earth doesn’t seem to understand
Heaven controls the land
It’s not what you say, but what you do
Spiritual being pursue
There are Earth assignments to fulfill
All under Heaven’s will
The Earth seems to wonder
They must look yonder
There is a must in shall
Stands for all
Heaven’s call
One day being an hour
Earth walks around being sour
Hour after hour
The time will come
You feel lonesome
Heaven is it
The perfect fit
Put on the full armor
Heaven will always be it
Spiritual Fashion fit
Precise
Heaven’s eye
Being Thy
Generous of heart, the morning his light,
with a spirit of passion he shares his wisdom.
He muses his manic state with courage - profound - Awen
Glowing, he sparkles, eyes twinkle,
timid - unsure, rich in a maelstrom of ideas,
and silent contemplation - Awen
Cloaked yet exposed, open and free,
protecting his inner soul as he imparts his knowledge,
distracting through equation - Awen
Numeric of mind, instrumentally in tune - a converging compass mainly longitude.
The lateral advances of his discourse,
become a passionate concept - an interlude - Awen
The warmth and softness, as the lines string together,
pausing to reflect, he searches the precise -
as he hunts for accuracy - the consistent flow - Awen
Seeks clarity - yet remains confused, the touch is calming, encouraging fluidity of speech,
he's curious to watch as the physical ignites his soul,
the contact eliciting the passion at hand - a conundrum - Awen
A library in context, you are , my friend
Girls walk through life with a calculated and precise step,
their beauty hides a sinister and well-woven design,
their eyes are cold, piercing, hard to read and understand,
and they hurt anyone who dares to get too close to their soul.
They are the ones who bring pain to the hearts they encounter on the way,
they lie and manipulate, weaving stories with invisible threads,
their touch burns and destroys, leaving deep marks on the skin of time,
I have seen how they leave hearts shattered, scattered into a thousand pieces.
They are the masks of a designer of illusions that dance in shadows,
blending light and darkness, creating a spectacle of fragility,
but beyond this facade lie untold stories and silences,
for they too carry deep within their soul an unspoken longing for true love.
Perhaps beneath this cold and calculated mask lies a dream,
a dream of finding someone who can see beyond reflections and lies,
someone to discover the beauty in their hidden imperfection,
and to transform the pain into a story of hope and redemption.
Global warming calls for climate control:
Earth's glaciers are quickly melting away,
while most nations haven't met their carbon goal.
Though the damage done could have been undone,
Big business wasn't willing to pay the price
going green: would levy on everyone.
It's too late, climate change is here to stay,
and that's not up for debate, it's here now:
wreaking havoc, despite what skeptics say.
And though it's difficult to be precise;
low-lying lands are feeling its effects,
as oceans rise and glaciers shed their ice.
Failing to realize we're connected,
Man's stewardship of Earth was neglected.
In better times, Anders Throne once was
a good husband and loving father,
married to his sweetheart, Rosie Smith,
who’d grown on the Chesapeake waters.
He worked as a lawyer, was well renowned,
had a little boy by the name Chester,
if fate were just he would’ve lived out his days
and saw his happiness never perturbed.
But when the war with the north broke out
to his country he was compelled to stay true,
he said good-bye and stole away north,
marching to war with the boys in blue.
His father-in-law said "Good riddance!"
and moved his precious daughter away,
to a big mansion deep in Richmond,
where he felt she could safely stay.
The war dragged on, and in the end
Richmond found itself under siege,
all in the city knew things were rough,
that there was no real hope of relief.
Day after day the big guns did roar on,
a crashing hail of fire and shell,
until one April day when the Union struck
and the town of Petersburg fell.
Unable to hold Richmond any longer
General Lee led his army to the west,
but Anders, arched into the fallen town,
hoping somehow to find his dearest.
But cannons and not the most precise of things,
and when he reached her father’s home,
he saw cinders scattered, shards of broken glass,
from the hallway ceiling’s grand old dome.
He found an old slave who explain it all,
that whoever had been inside no was dead,
a cannon-ball had ignited a great blaze,
and they died of the smoke in their beds.
Anders collapsed when he heard the news,
and roared out his agony and pain.
He railed at God,”I fought to free people!
And as thanks you go take her away?!”
Bereft of his son and his dearest love,
he walked away right then and there,
deserted the army and wandered off,
if they hanged him he did not care.
He aimlessly started heading for the west,
and as he walked along he wound find
the ‘truth’ of it all, so clear and so crisp,
took over his grief-battered mind.
God cared not for the trials of men,
nor the world that he had once made.
The beasts had it right, take what you can!
Destroy any who gets in the way.
The only rules that mattered were anarchy,
laws of the jungle, ever cold and cruel.
He was done pretending that there was a point,
manners and honor were lies for the fools…
CONTINUES IN PART II
Dawn breaks…
over the horizon in a thin, frail line
my large snout presses downward
upon the ragged earth
I am on the hunt
absorbed in my task
scanning and searching
for that elusive scent
that is in my wake.
Like a great detective
I leave no stone unturned
I am proud of my prodigious nose
finely tuned, precise as a compass
I can detect the rarest of scents
I probe to follow that unique smell
to find what is lost...
it is the zenith of my existence.
What, ho! Now, the scent!
My body trembles with the thrill of discovery!
Onward, I go, with eager anticipation
I will not stop until I reach my destination.
Alas, my determination pays off
my master sees the end in sight...
I do not understand his sudden sadness
how he draws back
at the scene set before him.
As I nuzzle close to my master
his salty tears drench my face
my doleful eyes seem to comfort him
as we huddle together
underneath the dry, hot sun.