Long Procure Poems
Long Procure Poems. Below are the most popular long Procure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Procure poems by poem length and keyword.
Now I am quite realistic
Never ever fatalistic
Fantasy never tickled my fancy
So you can understand my surprise
From their daunting size
On the streets of New York
My air left me as if released by a cork
For before me shaped like giant potatoes
Were ten gigantic too big toes
Human in everything but weight
Any want for fainting this can sate
Did I faint? I’m not sure
A want to run this did procure
But connected to these toes
I found their much mightier foes
I beheld feet
Which smell is no treat
I suddenly felt the urge to run
For what was in front of me could block out the sun
Upon the feet were legs
On those legs a fat belly
The deodorant was very cheap and smelly
In awe I looked up more
They wore a jersey with the number four
Their arms could hold sky scrapers each
Humility to all the muscles could teach
And on their head they had a fashioned mullet
The hair spray could stop a bullet
They had fingers that could carve a valley
Which would never fit in any New York alley
The giant chuckled and skipped
And a bow they dipped
To a giant almost completely alike
Who was inspecting a shop window’s intricate bike
The new comer was female
But description is mostly the same tale
She was well dressed
And a laugh she did suppress
As the male stumbled after his bow
Then he joined arm to arm to her allow
And walked on
On to where there was no concrete to trod upon
Let me speak of great love:
"Love!" no consonant can procure--
No vowel can lyrically form
Into lips and eyes so fair,
Dare I use the word divine
When proclaiming mine?
Yes! My love is all of these--
And adjectives numerous more
Than leaves,
And flakes it takes to white
The vast countryside,
And stars one counts when ribbons
Of stars unfold and
The dazzle of the heart cries
Out: "No other will do, no beat
Of life will pursue unless
There is you!"
I breathe a whisper love
Then shout,
My love exploding out--
Comes forth, such amorous rage--
Beyond poems,
A heart poured out
Running off page:
Not as buds--slowly, eloquently define,
Or as grapes aromatically refine,
But as stormy sea
Rushes to shore
My love thrust is this
And more…
No--my love has no face--
For this is not her grace--
A body such as she
Yet have I to find
For all are in my mind--
For all reveal some special way
What alone a throbbing heart
Can say--
What alone heaven
Has yet to share,
What alone
Mortal hearts have yet to bare--
For such love as this
If for others I would deem
One must never have
But always dream….
Overwhelmingly fragile life is,
It often knocked us down on our knees.
Facing the daybreak has been exceedingly petrifying
where to rise where to set?
Do I even belong here?
A loner I've always been.
From million miles, I shot the star yet fall on lion’s mouth
there's scarcity of rooms to procure all that's hurting,
All that's maiming.
then what's left is all bogus,
A goal of its own to attain
winning or losing I am on the race.
Even so, as I set about to stretch my wings and waggle
No longer could I hobble around.
while all I own is learning to recline on Jesus,
the Master of all the masters
supersede the unfathomable vagueness,
rose brighter when all I comprehend is a grey of tilted shades
He truly is my superhero for life.
When things are turning dark,
try pivoting toward the light.
Nothing grandiose-no great secrets revealed.
Just a simple pivot of the wayward mind.
Until the shine comes back into view.
Like the bow of an oft-battered rose.
Weaving its way through icy storms...
Try to follow the sextant of the soul.
Darkness is necessary to expose the blight.
But darkness is also toxic to the virgin light.
Pivot away from this molten blackness.
Pivot sharply -gently praying for direction.
This light will never slither away.
Only devils procure that illusion.
This purist light is an uncharted island.
Anchored to the strength of your faith.
I pray to someday make landfall on the cay of light.
An island that the wizened call...heaven.
What is wrong with using "not"?
It is a negative to an eloquent adjective, verb or noun
Simply the opposite state of being; which one should NOT frown
For programmers, "not" is a logical complement
which helps us filter-out things we do NOT want
and is used sparsely and NOT to flaunt.
By simply twisting our thought at 180-degrees,
it's used to portray an abrupt reversal image in our mind.
A quick look at a mirror, and NOT you will find.
Affix a k-, yet "knot" still sounds the same
but it will help keep our things secure.
From our pretzels, shoes and the ribbon-wrapped gifts we procure.
Add an s-, and the children will be amused.
Defiance is in its nature, is it NOT?
That is, to disgust their friends with each others snot.
So, to be or NOT to be
Green Oasis in the midst of burning sands.
Milk ed Maidens in garb of headdress band.
Soaked in milk and butters cream.
Supple like the grass, taught like the reed.
Come back to me, fall back to your
Leige.
The dry hollowed Papyrus unlocks
the Sundials mystery.
Tells not the tale of my voyaged seventh sea.
Sarcophagus be damned.
I will procure the scarab from the Genie,
the Cyclops, Jason,
or whomever holds the Goldening,
that was fleeced from me.
I will take my birthright
from their blooding hands.
As the Nile bleeds
onto the fertile crescent lands.
See it in your Astronomy.
Canopic jar it with your gland.
The Sphinx's eyes gleam and Sirius,
it shines for me.
By God's own hand.
My hopes are like the snowflakes that do fall,
Onto the ground, so real, at times my woe,
With disabilities that on others call,
To assist me over ice and rough paths:
Sometimes I cannot get around the snow,
And my New Year’s resolutions me baths;
They’re just the same as snow, that I am sure,
Because you’re challenged each day to have them;
Neatly in your mind to recall, procure,
Anytime you want, with ardour or flip,
And you can whenever you like so hem,
Your dreams and ambitions and if you tip
Others, indifference will occur tall,
Because it’s yourself that you truly owe.
Form: Cornish sonnet
Flesh bordered lace
with sorrow's face,
I sense your presence
above:
Cheeks flushed,
a fever of grace and love
from where you stand;
and the sparse salt
of your eyes,
mingled in water-brushed begonias
from your hand
with gentle sighs.
Beneath velvet leaves
and strings of grass woven
in beauty,
I sink slowly;
dissolving satin, bone, and shard,
the frame of those
who last viewed me
since worldly disregard.
I plead you to say:
Why do you stray
from your path
to read this epitaph?
Did your eyes befall
a stone unknown,
etched in meaning
you long to call
your own?
"In passing, dear traveler, know this:
I seep to secure
I crack to create
I leak to procure future's fate everlasting
through solemn earthen kiss."
Be assured, I know your mind.
The purpose you seek
in the vital world
will be found,
a smile at last unfurled
in final resting ground;
Both peaceful
and resigned.
You can not see your conscious
But you know its always there
Its something you cant escape
No matter when or where
Like wind we can not view
Or scents we can not touch
The conscious is an internal
judge
Guilt or pride the sentence thrust
A faceless void within the mind and soul
A dark or light sphere
Only the individual can procure
The object of our fear
A catalogue of right and wrong
Molded from our birth
Hearing watching learning
Like the verses of a song
We memorize the things to do
And those we turn our backs
Straying off the grid
Sometimes to cover tracks
To turn it off impossible
Even when mortal no more
Who is the one to judge
No one knows for sure
Mad mother me.
I would shout "Paratroopers"
if a mass exodus from the heated house
was in operation, where the heat might escape.
So my daughters would know not to loiter in the doorway.
Mad mother me.
If asked to drive into town at 5pm
I would stamp and shout about traffic cahos.
Even though we live in a small town.
Crawling in traffic was obviously not my thing.
Mad mother me.
I would rant and rave how beautiful their hair was.
Only for them to go and get it thinned out.
So they could attach those expensive hair extensions.
And they thought I was mad??
Mad mother me.
I would procure alcohol in the form of cans of beer.
For my underage drinking, prinking (pre drinking) daughters.
In the hope that in my watching them consume, they would presume
enough was enough, so no more allowed...outside.
Mad mother me.
I would bring them to the G.P.
When they asked me to help them obtain the pill,
to clear up their acne, if you will. Knowing in my heart
after a year with their partner, they were bound to start...
Mad mother me.
I hope in future they will see.
How much love my heart has poured from me.
To give them the best start in life ahead.
And to know if I could have loved them more, I would.