Long Profess Poems
Long Profess Poems. Below are the most popular long Profess by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Profess poems by poem length and keyword.
Message in a bottle
When you having nothing to live for
You have nothing to die for
Often you end up on the floor
In a pool of your own destruction
When you see the flowers in full bloom
You think of graves
When you see the sun shine
You think of hells fire within
When the nighttime comes round
You are thankful for the gin
The tonic of life is killing you
Toxic dreams wake you to horrid illusions
You wonder, who ...am I
Dead?
Or better off dead?
Message in a bottle
I have loved
I have loved you
All my words bottled up
Inside of my fears
I grasp not the light of day
I grasp at straws
Gasping a breath above the waterline
Dreaming that one day you will hold my hand
I know this shall never come to pass
Your fears rival mine
Twins across the ocean of vast emptiness
I shall write to you my deepest desires
I shall profess to you my deepest love
Unrequited devotion of the heart
My soul shall sing and dance in your honor
All this a scribe shall write
For I am not one versed in letters
I small icon painted of your beauty
I will enclose with my broken heart
All of this
Inside a bottle
One day it shall reach your shores
Your grandchildren will be filled in melancholy
At a great love, lost and discarded over the ages
Although you and I married each other once before,
It was only in front of the Justice of the Peace.
Every single day, I grow to love you even more
And I want others to see that my love will never cease.
This time around, we’ll have more pomp and circumstance,
But in such a way befitting of the two of us.
Our ceremony will be full of love and romance.
It will be a beautiful day without one single fuss.
I’m so looking forward to the long-awaited day
When I can stand up in front of our friends and family
And profess my undying love in such a way
That there will be no doubt that we were meant to be.
~Roses~
(Dove's Cooing)
Red roses
a tribute
to loved ones
roses have
very long
history
legend says
that Eve gave
A kiss to
a white rose
in Garden
of Eden.
Cupid bled
on roses
'cause lost love
instead, then
another says
Cleo strew
room with red
roses to
seduce Mark
Anthony
with perfume
and her woes
The wealthy
Romans lay
on beds of
roses too,
these are a
few of the
legends I
share with you
roses are
beautiful
a nice way
to express
affection
for someone
you care and
love profess
so, give them
roses and
will make them
smile if sad,
roses are
magical
make eyes glow
and hearts glad.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyrigth@2012
October.5.2015
The "Dove's Cooing" is a poetry style created by Patricia Simpson.
"What do you want to be when you grow up, son?"
"I think I want to be a poet."
"Oh no," moans Mom.
"Anything but that," groans Dad.
"You'll never make a living," chimes in Uncle Phil.
"Who'd ever marry a poet?" rasps Aunt Lil.
"Maybe you can be a professor," urges sister.
"But I've nothing to profess."
"Or a prominent researcher," urges brother.
"To conclude that my theory was just a guess?"
"How about Law?" cousin Dave suggests.
"Who me? --Defend scoundrels and societal pests?
"Public Service," counsels best friend Harvey. "That's the ticket."
"No way. Politics is not for me. I'm already sick of it."
"Business, ha-ha," smiles 'Honest Sam.' "That's where the money's made."
"Not if I have to lie, cheat, and steal to get paid."
"Well then, medicine's an upright calling," asserts Dr. Surgeon.
"Sure is--if you can handle student loan debt ever-burgeoning.
"So son," probe Mom and Dad, "Why in Heaven do you want to be a poet?"
"Because poets seek the Truth, and their poems show it."
For an instant, it had seemed imagination
Perhaps an illusion?
A movement so fleeting, a tease of the senses
Just by chance,...just one glance,
that triggers and pricks all the hairs down my spine
Grey shadows stalk me, as if from a cloud
The wilderness talking....not making a sound
Following, to play? Or looking for prey?....
Grey, as the doves, that scatter away
Cunning, and running, along the ridge up above
Then to look up, again, you vanish from eyes
Lost in the brush, just as a clouds hide the skies.
Then back in the noon light, in hide-and-seek flight
Eclipsed by the sagebrush, to keep out of sight
With steel-metal eyes, you track far behind me
from a distance, demanding, between us, resistance
Commanding my interest, in your curious wiles
No one can profess to have full understanding,
what secrets exist, ......of the spirit that binds us
Yet, we are all one, and as all creatures we dwell,
upon sacred land, upon ancient tales
You've followed me closely, with caution, a friend,
I feel a new spirit, that drifts in the wind
__________________________________________________
4/3/15
Contest: Canis Lupus the Wolf
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
The Last Consummation
Hello. Good evening. Nice to see you.
It is always good to have someone to talk to,
especially now in my waning years,
as Death is softly playing the piano in the next room.
The piece he is playing is nearly over.
I know this because I have lived a long time in the shadows.
I have talked to dying faces many times,
with the same quiet melodies playing in the background;
they are like old friends who never change.
They stay loyal and refuse to believe the lies being said about you.
They speak up for you on your behalf,
watching your back even when you’re wrong.
Such apparitions do exist I am told,
as there are many who profess to have seen and known them.
But I have not known any such person, or melody.
They are mythical creatures that have thrived in a former age,
lassoed in by the Sun God for an afternoon’s pleasure with tiny animals.
These eminent beings who will stand by you when all have departed;
these are the rare honest ones, the decidedly wise ones,
all proportioned with a gutsy backbone that is unbreakable,
durable as the dubious winter grass at solstice time,
and as honorable as one’s bloodline amongst the masses,
Can you hear the million shouting voices?
They find deaf ears, and a million frozen stares,
in the last consummation.
On the west coast of Africa
Stands there, the realm of liberty, Sierra Leone
She hosts men of but no clone
Many of her descendants are erudite
These men of controversies
Who seem to read only their self-verses
With their longing for power
Causing peaceful chaos in this blessed land.
The countrypeople are lopsided:
Some breed violence
Because they have always swept off peace;
Some chase equanimity away
Because they have dug and buried love
Minds of countermove
All these encumber development
And yet we profess nation building
Which is not so.
Albeit the strifes and brawls
If we be transformed in positive measure
We can still swim in the pool of country pleasure
Endowed in the fountain of peace
We should watch not ourselves of brag
But overshadowed by the whitish color of our flag
Our anthem of uniqueness.
O how bright it is to unite, to come together!
If we do this
With the anchor of ‘Together we rise’
By the weapon of oneness
Like those builders of Babel’s tower
We shall surely progress in building our nation in an hour
And in a unified coexistence.
One time I asked myself what's so hard about being a child of Christ?
is it because I have to fight against the devil everyday of my life?
is it because I'm now saved and living sanctified?
or is it because I refused to sell out and I'm now rectified?
the hardest thing about being in Christ I would profess
is that after the first time, God requires another yes
when you say yes to God it's not a one time event
for it's only by His grace that you are even in His presence
to be a child of Christ you need to advance by little steps
and say yes to all He asks of you, if you desire to be His earthly rep
in the process of time God will tell you to have no fear
for when your well runs dry He will make water appear
for God won't let you thirst nor let you starve and die
He will always provide for on His word you can rely
when Elijah asked that widowed woman for some water to drink
she said yes, that's no problem, what did you really think?
but when he next asked for a little bit of bread
she said I only have enough for one last meal and then I will be dead
as a prophet of the Lord, Elijah wanted another yes
to see if she would commit to God and trust in Him to do no less
her first yes was only a very convenient gesture
but her second yes would have been a show of her true measure
sacrificial commitment and unselfish attitudes
are some of the things God requires of you
step out of your comfort zone
and sacrifice for the heavenly throne
many people tend to treat God like a tire that's a spare
kept in the trunk until we need it there
and when that tire gets us to our final destination
we remove that spare and put it back in hibernation
but God has a plan and He's not just a convenient device
He's the master of our fate and Controller of our lives
you don't really own anything for all you see belongs to God
always give Him another yes and give it from the heart
so when that widowed woman did as the Prophet Elijah did say
God then provided her with food for many, many days
Yes Lord, Yes Lord say it as often as you can
Yes Lord, Yes Lord I put my fate in Your righteous hands
Yes Lord, Yes Lord for You I can do no less
Yes Lord, Yes Lord, ALWAYS ANOTHER YES
This heart has new meaning
To the days and nights of harrowing loneliness
The waiting of relinquishment so forgiving to profess
The falling into your arms to find its caress lay dreaming
I found you where the diminished sunlight pervades
As our lives waned with the grace of age and wisdom
Gentle was the light that melts our hearts as one
Enlightening the path of our love as our horizon fades
So now we have enfolded the ardent home
Where trusted hearts and fearless vision
Of our souls exposed in their division
Embrace each other in our love laden poem
Never to be alone
September 19, 2019
Pick A Title, Vol. 9-Enclosed Rhyme Poetry Contest
"These Arms Long To Hold You"
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
What side can you judge infinity from,
the front or then the back
If it’s never over, or never ends,
how then can you protract
Can infinity stop and start again,
would it be different or the same
Can judgment ever qualify,
what it can’t even name
If generalizations are generally true,
what can we really know
With the distance between our hopes and dreams,
beyond what time can show
One step forward and one step back,
micromanaging the present away
The ideas you profess, whose laws you tout,
tethering emptiness—to illusions foray
(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)