Long Prided Poems
Long Prided Poems. Below are the most popular long Prided by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prided poems by poem length and keyword.
PRIDE
I went in search of pride
When I found her; she was so proud of herself
She prided herself about like a peacock
I told her the humble truth of life
Pride, you need to get down from your high shoes
Only then can you realize that which you haven't realized
The ground on which you stand is not a levelled ground
This ground you stand on is only a stepping ground to a higher ground
Right now, you see it as a ground higher than mount Everest
Your pride deceives you; you are standing on a ground below sea level.
She is just a girl
She is in herself a self acclaimed goddess
She likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; she controls herself
Though not good at it; herself controls her
Pride gets the best out of her; humility is her slave
She is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
She doesn't want to get real with reality
She is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in her comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
He is just a boy
He is in himself a self acclaimed god
He likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; he controls himself
Though not good at it; himself controls him
Pride gets the best out of him; humility is his slave
He is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
He doesn't want to get real with reality
He is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in his comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
Lordvip
Proud Earth when prided in a solar meet:
Look I'm alive; none of you as I view,
Ye all are frozen, scorching else, unfit,
Nature has blest me with a rare virtue—
An asset O for eons to cherish,
Destiny’s experiment, you’ll perish.
Sun, ever benign, smiling said sans ire:
I burn my flesh and my very being,
You know not, I get singed in sacred fire
That thy womb warms, my child, autumn to spring.
Feel blessed, and never be such an ingrate,
O pompous wretch, proud to get put-on cheers,
Is this what ye teach to life you create?
For years in right place, go thank all your peers.
___________________________________________
Sonnet | 01.11.2007, revised Jan 2024|
Poet’s note: An odd sonnet which starts with a sestet, followed by an octave. Smug atop the pyramid of life, Earth once felt proud of having created intelligent life. The sun then chided her and advised her to set a good example to her brood, the so-called intelligent life out to destroy her. Beware, as this sonnet says to earth: Grey shall turn thy Green Pride.
Heaven offers tickets to any citizen
Adhering to good behaviour, as Richard
Sin washed virtuous shines richeous
Permitted exclusive afterlife purchase
Richard prided himself on his neat appearance
Inside out Bible marked imbibed coherence
Nourised by 7am museli, leaving home soon after
Publisher for Eternal week days, on Sunday a pastor
Sermon prepared carefully, time consumed him
Pinnacle of Lord days pointed to duty resuming
Shared redemption message with congregation
Ensured wavering faith was infiltrated by elation
Devoted volunteer, full schedule proportionate
Monthly soup kitchen duty served less fortunate
Ten pm delivery of left over to his Mother's house
Widow nearing ninety, not readily able to get out
Forsaken God fearer one fateful day struck down
by hooligan during dawn walk in neighbourhood renowned
for echoing homes, high hedge edges hide pedestrians
Tyre tattooed road kill, dislodged by reckless heathan
Bedside machines duly beeped his fragile existence
Sacrifice of admired man to stagnant predicament!
Moral loyalty, immaculately ironed, full dedication
Could it be God had ordered his early eradication?
Flatlined screen, pulse serene denotes one way entry
To harp plucking, angel hosted, cloud palace heavenly
Proclaimed as reward, rule abiders' final destination
For the followers of God's word, a deserved salvation
Picket fence of precious metal keeps the sinners out
White ground expanse supports people equally touted
As pray-ers, obeyers, having delayed gratification
Burying bad tendancies for kingdom of imagination
Cloud haven loungers hear filtered sound of festivity
Scantily clad wilful tribal fire-side dancers devilish
Grins closed only to kiss ridiculous Mother marijuana
Eternity unconfirmed, turmultous tenure harnessed
27th June
Satire Saturday
Tongue in cheek contraversy needs no translation
Manic imaginings account for all inclinations!
What just happened yesterday
Must have been dreaming I guess
Met an beautiful stunning young lady
Left me in a helluva mess
Always thought I was in total control
But she knocked me back on his ass
Can't believe her feminine guile
A totally gorgeous lass
Always prided myself in keeping cool
But exceptions still do happen
If you'd asked me a couple of days ago
This scenario I couldn't imagine
Just goes to show you, my dear, dear friends
No one's immune to the love bug
You could be as old as a hundred and six
And it still affects you like a drug
Don't get me wrong, I ain't complaining
This is what love's all about
It belts you hard on the side of the head
And all you wanna do is shout!
© Jack Ellison 2013
When she said those five words to me, I was astonished, ahgast, flabbergasted, mystified. She never knew my dad who died long before I even met her. At the time, she had not even seen a picture of him and only knew what I told her of him. By the way, allow me to inject a word of advice to husbands. Tell your wife the good side of your father. Anyway, I told my wife the bad side of my father because at the time, it was difficult for me to remember the good side of my dad.
So when my wife said to me, "You are just like him", I was taken aback. How could she say such a thing? He drank; he gambled; he cursed a lot; he carried a gun in his pickup and wasn't afraid to use it; at times, he was very unkind and verbally abusive toward my mother. I prided myself that I was none of those things. Yet, she said it again, "You are just like him".
I tell you, she saw in me what I had not seen in myself-my dad alive and well in his son. That's when I took note to begin to deal with the bad side of my dad in me by the Grace of God and the Christ in me. By the Grace of God, I am becoming less like the bad side of my earthly father and more like my heavenly father.
062020PS
(Google cecil lion murder)
Some satanic soul committed awful regicide
Of Cecil, prided King of the Jungle
And that has left behind his bereaved pride
And his offspring in bloody danger
For Cecil the royal majesty of the Game reserve
Has been the victim of crazy murder!
Round the world poaching goes on.
To purses of leather
one lost its skin
One lost its feather
to hats and decors
Another lost its fur
to those mink coats
One lost its tooth
to ivory bangles gosh!
Many lost their lives
to heartless hunters
Not only are they
on animal property encroaching
They are selfishly and greedily
also poaching
Alas! Alas! Alas!
Woe to that cut throat
fine and fancy fur coat
They lost it all to ruthless
merciless, thoughtless poachers
And even if this lost was found later
and confiscated by officers
Still how do you restore
this lost and found
to their rightful owners?
How do you return
a severed tusk to the elephant?
Fur to the lynx cat?
Skinned skins to the python?
Or ripped feathers to the peacock?
And how do you restore life
to the poor dead fauna
As long as poaching is rife
Relax not in beach or sauna.
Peep at them through binoculars
instead of through guns
Shoot 'em' with cameras
instead of weapons
O' hunters shun hunting
with darned shotguns!
Siege warfare (trumpeting)
average joe biden his time
linkedin with aberrant behavior
transpires within me mind,
(not just today December 5th, 2020,
but everyday/365)
warrants depleting stockpile arsenal
constituting exhausting mental health
uprooting deep seated repellent pesky
daunting lost cause.
Overruled by irrational thoughts,
I feebly muster a lame duck
half quacked comeback
(think home team cheering at pep rally)
against analogous figurative agents provocateur
said nemesis bore down hard
upon sense and sense abilities
mine psyche undergoing
blistering, hectoring withering, et cetera
courtesy ghost of Emily Brontë
mailer daemons flitting to and fro,
hither and yon within wuthering heights.
Another necessity Emma gin)
awoke prided prejudice
to confront head on
beastie boy foo fighting (Irish,
no matter genealogy regarding
yours truly Eastern European)
mine talking head housing
private insane asylum.
Incomprehensible thought processes
chronically spin out of control
dictate mandate NOT to wash hair
until at least one week passage of time,
(an arbitrarily chosen number
i.e. seven days convenient block)
even if appearance looks unkempt, slovenly
grungy, et cetera as nirvana seeking guy.
Thus, I readily admit self held hostage,
whereby loopy thought provoking patterns
hopelessly, grimly, futilely find me surrendering
NEVER eradicating down battened ramparts
neurotic, lunatic approved, idiotic
mind mental chattering
babbling jabbering gibberish
housing concocted village people
dead set against shampooing oily locks.
Quite a tussle (think metaphorical hair pulling)
ensues within me scrambled noggin,
whereby pathetic psychotic pummeling
win knows scrimmage
scoring touchdown amidst
teaming muted brouhaha
allowing, enabling, and providing
harmlessly insane nettlesome
pesky skewed notions
ridiculous leeway to predominate
until yours truly USDA
qualified, hashtagged, certified...
as grateful dead among human league.
I never bend, but I had to,
Her to understand I had to.
Revoking my life’s firm resolve,
Spoil a pushy friend I had to.
She came as if from nowhere-land,
My all to her lend I had to.
I always had walked my own ways,
Go the way cats wend, I had to.
I could stand no cats in my life,
But seeing her mend I had to.
I often find her in the wrong,
Yet, to defend her I had to.
I prided me as my own man,
Bend to her command I had to.
_____________________
Ghazal |25.01.2023| cat, humour, she, wife
Poet’s note: When a pussy cat became a pushy pat in my house…. But wait, a pussy cat or a pushy girl or wife in one’s life, it makes little difference and matters little for this tongue-in-cheek ghazal.
My love for you and our Father God--
ah ah ah, ah ah
My love for you and our Father God;
My love for you and our Father God;
My love for you and our Father God;
In the shallows I shall love you;
As the moon shines in the night;
I shall adore you;
My love for you and our Father God
Visits of grandeur springs forth treasures;
Glorious vision of us together;
I shall witness your joys;
As I await to implore;
My prayers to be answered when I am yours;
Shall we embrace;
Shall we dance;
Shall we be the greater thing?
Shall we hold hands and praise God
From whom all blessings flow;
Shall we hold hands and walk the promised lands;
My love for you and our Father God
Amen
In the meadows I shall pray with you;
As the sun shines on the grassy dew;
All I ever want is just to be with you;
Kissing the wind as the breezes whispers our name;
Glorious vision of us together;
Witness shall I your joys;
Awaiting as I to explore;
Those naysayers whom deny our love;
We shall embrace;
We shall dance;
We shall witness to others about the love of Jesus;
Together you and I shall swallow prided;
And stop living a lie;
Together we’ll try to solemnly worship the almighty God;
We shall embrace;
We shall dance;
Together praising and singing dancing
All those blessings of our Lord Jesus;
Shall we be the greater thing?
Shall we hold hands and praise God
From whom all blessings flow;
Shall we hold hands and walk the promised lands;
This is my testimony my love for you and our Father God
Amen
4/3/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
When we were younger…we prided ourselves in being what we would call hip!
We were hip by our music, by how we danced, even the clothes that we wore.
and as grandma’s and grandpas we still think we’re hip
but we’re told no-one uses that term anymore….
Back then when it came time to watch the Grammys
we knew the words to every song…
we watched as the performers did their singing and dancing
and we danced
and we sang along…
But as the years have slipped away from us
though we still have our musical hunger
it seems the people doing the singing
have gotten younger
and younger
and younger.
So now when it’s time to watch the Grammys
we don’t always feel we belong…
We often can’t understand what it is they are singing
which makes it impossible to sing along.
And if we try to dance like they dance
we don’t feel like hipsters…at all.
In fact the only hip we are feeling
Is the one that we bruise…when we fall!
So now we sit back and relax watching the Grammys
they still put on a wonderful show
and we listen and try as old hipsters
to pick up and use their argot…
So this year we were dope with the clothes they wore on that stage
and dope with the songs that were sung…
though we’re pretty sure dope doesn’t mean the same thing
as it did back when we hipsters were young.