Long Princes Poems
Long Princes Poems. Below are the most popular long Princes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Princes poems by poem length and keyword.
Men will go to war no more
No more will they take up arms
In a race of domination of empires
They shall all lay down their arms
And pay homage to the Lord of host
As the prince of peace is revealed
As the rule of the righteous is established
And the just inherit the earth
And earth is turned into a paradise
And the just will recline its gardens
I will call to my Lord in the hour of my need
I will cry to my Lord and find refuge with Him
He who humbles the princes and the rulers
The whole earth is in awe of his presence
The the spirit cries Abba Father..our father
(As for me, I shall behold thy face in righteousness;
when i awake, I shall be satisfied with beholding
thy form... Psalms 17:15)
Tis the season to be folly
fa la la la fa, la la la fa
Court jesters and gay princes dancing
kissing their desires away in Palaces of derision
sinners around, they abound
Jesus will punish them on and all
Tis the season to be folly
fa la la la fa, la la la fa
Gay smiles and transgender hugs
all the children dancing
so happy and snug
do no harm, all religion doth sing
Tis the season to be folly
fa la la la fa, la la la fa
Hateful preachers
all drowned in the punch
now the reindeer and elf's
have more food for their lunch
Tis the season to be folly
fa la la la fa, la la la fa
The Greeks were gay so long ago
they taught us to be open
any goat goes
to the harem of love
do no harm
love all
Abu Nuwas sips his wine
in his tower of Babel so tall
Tis the season to be folly
fa la la la fa, la la la fa
They accuse me of cutting of my cock
Just to wear a frock
And hang about in bogs
When all I want
Is the peace to piss
Or to piss in peace
Just another of their
Disgusting spiels
Designed to turn me extreme
But hate is there language
Not mine I just rhyme
Im happy it’s gone
My meaty schlong
It just hung there all flaccid
It was always so wrong
But it never once said
Get this straight in your head
That off I should go
On the chance
A women to catch
In the stench of the lavs
I mean
Who’s idea was that
What warped mind
Full of hate could create
Such absurdist disgrace
Or maybe they reveal
A piece of them selves
All twisted and dark
So self loathing and reviled
Then push it out on the world
Rather than live with their shame
So as billionaires burn the world to the ground
And presidents and princes
Abuse kids with no charges
Of course they want you focused on me
Cos I’m the real threat
Cos I cut of my cock
In gilded halls where oil flows deep,
The people toil, the royals reap.
Voices muffled, dreams erased,
Truth walks veiled, and fear is laced.
A pen once bold, a voice so clear—
Khashoggi spoke, then disappeared.
"Even princes taste the whip,"
He warned before they sank his ship.
The riches lie in chosen hands,
While common blood dries in the sands.
A crown of gold, but hearts of stone—
No justice lives beneath this throne.
But silence cracks beneath the strain,
And storm-clouds gather in the plain.
For tyranny, no shield can keep
When waking lions cease to sleep.
One spark, one cry, one final shove—
And kings may fall from skies above.
What’s built on fear cannot survive
When truth and fire come alive.
Until I've seen, Melbourne days
was not just emptiness in play
I know I'll see
What I didn't see,
the September soaked symphony
of Vivaldi vines climbing,
jacaranda booms,
tremolo spilling eaves
Until you know this suburban kid's righted the wrong
I'll verse on my way, you as the bridges in my song
Making choruses of dreams that could soon belong
And urban princes and their Porsches
Lost in winters, cold in summers
They adore to ornate you, over muskwood and glassy silvers
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars
These hardened hands carrying letters I send
will wear me down to some sorry end
And this I know
But I'll go knowing
the Chapel charade was the pretty noise
of sonnets chasing sunsets,
drunk Welsh poets
tearing tails for London wisps
Until it comes, a northern boy without southerly blues
The swaying Yarrans, sparkling flutes, Victorian flues
Keeps Flinders Station stepping full of over-priced shoes
And boney bonny dames, old money games
Skirts for winters, surgeons for gains
They climb to lower you, for fifteen lights upon their names
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars
“You can have any wish,” the genie said.
“Any ONE wish?” the girl asked, a little disappointedly.
“One wish,” the genie answered, shrugging.
“Oh.. then” she said, thinking it over. “I wish for.. a banana,” she said whimsically.
“A banana?” The genie asked, hesitantly.
“Yes, the girl said, nodding her head.
A banana appeared on the table.
“As a banana pudding, please - in a bowl,” she amended.
The genie nodded, and a large bowl of delicious looking pudding took the place of the banana.
“With a spoon?” she asked sweetly, and a spoon appeared by the bowl.
She tasted the pudding and it was, indeed, magically delicious.
“A jewel encrusted spoon.” she corrected, and again it was so.
Then she blurted, all at once:
“The Spoon is In the hand of a handsome prince, who’s genetically identical to Timothée Chalamet and is so in love with me that he proposed a moment ago - to the delight of his father, the king, who knows we will both live long and happy lives, having several delightful children - that will rule long after us - but who, unbeknownst to anyone, has an immensely serious heart condition that, sadly, will claim him roughly fifteen minutes after he pronounces the prince and I husband and princess!”
The prince appeared, and the happy king.. It all happened.
As the ensuing dramas unfolded, the genie took his leave.
“It’s *never* just a banana,” he said to no one, snapping his finger and vanishing in a puff of wispy white smoke.
Once upon a time, in a land far away,
There was a prince with a Kitty Cat
(Or so the stories portray)
Who would often say, "Meow,"
Which is how kitty cats say,
"There's a forest growing in the living room!"
Now princes in magical kingdoms know
How to speak many languages
Frazil, German, Arabic, and Cat, so
It should be no surprise that our hero knew
That to a cat, a tree in the house is a forest, although...
It'd been forever since seeing a tree such as this!
"Meow!"-- "I know!" our hero exclaims,
"It's a Christmas tree! And soon presents will be
Arranged around it's base with our names!"
"Meow?" The plaintive query our kitty asks,
"How will you eat those awful fruits? It's a shame..
They're shiny and pretty, but they break easily!"
Kitty Cat went on, batting as he spoke,
"With so many trees to grow inside, this one has been infected
With lights that shine many-coloured without smoke,"
Though others in the room only heard "Meow meow," as expected.
"The candy canes-- they're peppermint!-- but the rest do not poke,"
Said the prince, "They are memories of Christmases past."
"MEOW!" said Kitty Cat, but the prince heard... this:
"Look what I can do! I can climb and hide!"
And clawing his way up the tree, Kitty Cat found bliss!
"Here it's warm, inside smells nice! I think I like
This forest inside!" Meowing on, no thought remiss,
Kitty Cat found his way to purr, knocking down baubles all along.
"Get down here," the prince did demand
"You're breaking the ornaments!" --"Meow?"
"Yes now! We worked very hard to decorate, make it stand
Straight. To light its branches with hope and love!"
And Kitty Cat obeyed the prince's command,
He came down, in wonderment, he looked as prince's boyish face.
In apology, Kitty Cat did purr,
Rubbing on his boy's leg and showing love
The way only cats know how, by gifting him fur.
And the prince smiled, for love and hope
Are all Kitty Cat knew. He lived here, near the conifer,
But only in the now, and never aware of what was or would be.
Batting softly, exploring this tree inside
Kitty Cat was lost in wonder, with the prince's presence.
"Look," said the prince, "Outside there's SNOW to ride!"
"Come on, Kitty Cat!" And grabbing his sled, outside he fled,
And Kitty Cat's meow behind the prince cried,
"But that's the sky-sand that turns to WET!"
Continous rhyming
Misplaced the pennies I saved up to buy me a dream.
Lost all the marbles I tried to keep inside of me,
But nothing tastes like home
And nothing outside can beat my dome.
People in corners tell secrets you don’t want to hear.
Liars and truth sayer's speak words like they are diarrhoea.
Love’s Angels sing at night and I want to smash them with all my might.
Kill all the goodness and split open all of the sores.
Wounds never heal when you are fighting for the wrong cause.
Rivers always flow; the wind it always blows,
But lonely as I am, I’ll never admit to defeat
And happy as I am, you’ll never see me in the street.
A ghost man with no name,
I have no interest in fame.
Just give me the money to buy myself out of this job.
Just send me the freedom I need to write the stories that I want.
The things we dream in dreams,
Are never quite what they seem.
Met me a reader who has never written a thing.
Wannabee singer; I wrote lyrics, but I could not sing.
Losers lose their mojo; don’t ask me where it goes.
Princes in palaces; I want everyone to go!
Princes and paupers are all the same when the end comes.
Death is the eternal entity and the end of all fun.
Everyone wants to live a life without the struggle and doubt,
But life is a razor and we stand on the edge waiting to be taken out.
Love is memory I hope to God I never feel again.
Continuous rhyming…same ol’ same…
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Story
I pull the dusty well-worn tome
Down from the high shelf in my home
Now blow and scatter all the flecks
As children gather, craning necks..
Anticipation glistens in their eyes
As if a fairground vendor's prize
Is handed down from garish stall
This gift of words that will enthrall
And so to start..
What wonders can this tale impart?
Adventures, battles, dragons, princes?
Escapes from death, to catch our breath
And calls so close the audience winces
A story captures imagination.
Thus passed to friend, then tribe, then nation
Courageous is the human trait
That shines against the odds of fate
Struggles through the moonlight quest
To strengthen, sharpen. To be the best.
A faithful steed to clamber hills..
A trusty blade to fight windmills
Fantastic creatures of the night
That snap and snarl, at ankles, bite
Testing all the pure resolve
To overcome. And puzzles solve.
And in this tale all play their part
Even though a darkened heart
Obstructs and hinders.
Like midnight chimes for fleeing Cinders.
But this, no magic Disney book
No stereotypical pirate Hook.
No flying carpet. No dancing bear.
Yet something special lingers there..
The truth revealed eventually;
Persistence beats adversity
With faithful steps and trusted sword
The sharpness of the purest Word
A wonderous tale to light the eyes;
Giants, snakes, kings and spies,
Angels, villains, light and colour
A story like you've heard no other
So pass to daughters, siblings, sons
This truth the light of many suns
For every generation reaches
Out for Hope this volume teaches
So search the book shelf, reach from high
Prepare to laugh, prepare to cry
Uncover truth of One so bold.
The greatest story ever told.
Jinjagoliath
29th March 2021
Let the day perish on which I was born,
and the night that said,
‘A man is conceived.’
Let that day be darkness!
May God above not seek it,
nor light shine upon it.
Let gloom and deep darkness claim it.
Let clouds dwell upon it;
let the blackness of the day terrify it.
That night—let thick darkness seize it!
Let it not rejoice among the days of the year;
let it not come into the number of the months.
Behold, let that night be barren;
let no joyful cry enter it.
Let those curse it who curse the day,
who are ready to rouse up Leviathan.
Let the stars of its dawn be dark;
let it hope for light, but have none,
nor see the eyelids of the morning,
because it did not shut the doors of my mother's womb,
nor hide trouble from my eyes.
“Why did I not die at birth,
come out from the womb and expire?
Why did the knees receive me?
Or why the breasts, that I should nurse?
For then I would have lain down and been quiet;
I would have slept; then I would have been at rest,
with kings and counselors of the earth
who rebuilt ruins for themselves,
or with princes who had gold,
who filled their houses with silver.
Or why was I not as a hidden stillborn child,
as infants who never see the light?
There the wicked cease from troubling,
and there the weary are at rest.
There the prisoners are at ease together;
they hear not the voice of the taskmaster.
The small and the great are there,
and the slave is free from his master.
“Why is light given to him who is in misery,
and life to the bitter in soul,
who long for death, but it comes not,
and dig for it more than for hidden treasures,
who rejoice exceedingly
and are glad when they find the grave?
Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden,
whom God has hedged in?
For my sighing comes instead of[a] my bread,
and my groanings are poured out like water.
For the thing that I fear comes upon me,
and what I dread befalls me.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
I have no rest, but trouble comes.”