Long Profuse Poems
Long Profuse Poems. Below are the most popular long Profuse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Profuse poems by poem length and keyword.
Often, my hands are tied when my clever muse
fills my mind with her thoughts that are profuse.
Sometimes my poetic intentions are lost in a line
because she's of the opinion hers are more divine.
She has a take-charge attitude, void of devotion
completely ignoring my heart's romantic emotion
Quite frustrating is she, but I dare not complain
or she'll give me nasty looks filled with disdain.
It's true, she's felt the ecstasy of love much more,
but I didn't know that she had been keeping score!
She slips into my visions and ideas when dreaming,
a feisty muse who resorts to outrageous scheming.
I should not allow her to tie my literary hands,
but she's a task master who makes harsh demands.
She tells me she has experiences as an old soul
so I should write what she renders. I've lost control.
She's off on a whim and thinks I can't do without her,
unknowing I write when she's away. To her I demur,
but I've sonnets, verse and Haiku inked from my pen.
If she knew she'd be madder than an old guinea hen!
The Sea of Tranquility gives rise to a parasitic plague,
Colonizing mechanical machines grinding,
Robotic arms frantically fabricating an inhospitable habitat.
Plumes of blackened smoke drift off into zero gravity—
A profuse profanity birthing intergalactic implosions.
Forfeited steel domes replace a once-pristine satellite,
Whilst humanity, like vultures, journeys to their new paradise,
Foaming at the mouth to exploit the dark side of the moon.
Looking outside the frosted rocket's windows,
Earth's decaying corpse is nothing but a mere memento mori in the rearview window.
Of course, who can claim to be my lover
Eternally wedded to him I am, in the form of a prayer
That is you, only you, powerful Lord
Revered you shall be as long as I can breathe your word!
Seated on the highest altar of my heart
Forever you shall be the ladies' sweetheart
Even if the guys will want their friendship's part
My lover forever you shall be in your tender heart
Feelings are profuse,
You have been my only muse
Lighting up at all times my fuse
Tending all the times to my bruise
Blissful are those seated near the Lord
Guiding them he is, always away from discord
Pray, altruist Lord, Love me endlessly
I am yours incessantly, claims my harmony
Placed 6th in the contest Endless Love;Gail Doyle
The Sands of Time are
sinking,
foundation of peace
quaking,
Under the mountains of hatred
Peace finds itself
ransomed;
Human greed is overflowing,
thirst for Sapiens’ blood is growing;
Leaders on a whim are orchestrating
the wars that the nations are
fighting.
To help satisfy the egos of a few
Whole nations suffer,
as a consequence,
blame games continue;
Ambitions of a few lead to the
the folly of many;
Most wars are fought on
false pride,
A quality profuse among
Leaders of an ilk;
War is forged in leaders’ minds,
Peace takes its humble birth
in the hearts of the masses,
If peace is to survive
Past wrongs must remain
in the past.
It’s hard to imagine
A world without war,
the merchants of terror
have invested
Trillions of dollars in standing armies,
and weapons of mass destruction;
The same resources could be invested in
sprightly human development;
Countries could focus more on
Society and peace.
Wars have been prevalent
and history a
mute witness,
yet a world without war is not a
Utopian dream,
far from it, it could be a
real possibility.
A world without war
would be a great opportunity
for society to develop and flourish;
The immense loss of life,
property, and infrastructure
is saved from destruction;
No more war casualties,
no more families ruined,
no more refugees;
Countries would focus more on their development
Instead of contending with
hostile nations.
A thought,
there wouldn’t be hostile nations, to begin with;
Where there’s peace
there’s stability,
where there’s stability there’s all-round progress;
As a species humans are not violent,
a world without war is not a far-fetched dream
if only we could revisit our
beliefs, choices, and actions
in all honesty.
As a dreamer, I never once dwelled on schemers,
so, as a believer, I fell for him, a deceiver.
I was never an anger screamer and tear streamer
until romantic panic lay me down as griever.
I believed his story, his strengths and regrets
which had me set to gently drift into his net
where hidden, as yet, were his sharp-hearted threats.
He spoke of love most profuse when he played to seduce.
I revealed all my truths, he used them for abuse
while running hot then cold to steer me towards confused.
Oh, he was charm, lushness and warmth, a manly steamer.
Then he was harm, harshness and cold, a heartless quiver.
Playing the fool to his cruel, is my self-debt,
one my brain did not deduce, nor heart now excuse.
I’ve come to the place where I can see the bigger picture and can truly say; My Journey? God allowed it! I would not be heaven-bound Today if...He hadn’t allowed...the roads that I took Yesterday. It really is that simple. You see, God waited (Isa 30:18) for me a long time, and now I’m totally grateful and so aware; our present relationship did not at all depend on me, it was He…Who First Loved me! Pressing-on…
I’m so past the faulting and denying
so over… pointing fingers of blame
I’m making my way to my eternal home
but not without some trials and pain
And I don’t care anymore who’s right…or wrong…
I’ve no interest in whether they ...pay
who really cares if they say ...sorry?
for, revenge got lost…in heaven’s overlay
I mean, really…
there have been times when I’ve gone…there…
to that miry and profuse place…
of loathing and despair
There have been times
when life handed me some things
that brought me to my knees…
where to me ‘holiness’ was a joker’s sting
So…yes, decisions I have made
haven’t always been for the right reasons…
thereby I and others were grievously affected
as I willingly wallowed in those dark seasons
However, of this I can attest…
when my filthiness was scorned…
with the odor of my carnality pervading…
and my self-worth scattered and torn…?
When my very presence was detested
and every step I took…was to some a liability?
when I didn’t even…try…to do better
with my selfishness…a gross reality…?
When I wore my sexuality like a badge
and I was desired…only…for that…?
when, over time, none wanted me…for anything…
but turned….and gave me their back…?
There was…One…who reached out a hand to me
who came declaring His Love…without a condition…
who embraced…all…that I was not, then waited years…
to hear…my words…of an honest contrition
So, why do I Love Jesus… like I do?
Why do I flaunt His Salvation, yes...fanatically?
Why will I never turn from following Him?
Because He was that…One…Who First Loved me!
Rom 5:6-8, 1Jhn 4:19
copyright;jmsbell/1/5/2021
Spring necked victim
Will be decked again
For pure amusement
Of fast pummelling fists
Layered bruise symptoms
Display punching bag pain
No retaliation movement
While heavy assault persists
Swung away, come back
For more of life's abuse
Copping it on the chin
Brings rhythm of survival
Waiting for following whack
Knuckle impact profuse
Tenderised gums begin
To resettle sidewards
Jutted out awkwardly
Jaw a crooked angle
Punished and punched up
Laughs with sinister taint
Prospect guaged morbidly
From unwieldy wrangle
Sippping from near empty cup
Limping with wounded gait
Fractured face suffers
Receipt of endless blows
Dislodged red teeth spat
Are metallic meant to be
True opinions muffled
Turn other cheek advice goes
Superbly for great diplomat
- For irate me, dismally
7th October 2020
'Take It On The Chin'
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Proud of having in veins Anglo-Scottish blood,
hound is the suitable surname I have earned
for the tireless tracking instinct ingrained in me,
an exclusive pedigree of rare gene manifest in
razor-edge sharpness of a keen sense of smell,
captured by profuse olfactory receptors well.
Unleashed in countryside thicket in the wild
I excel as prized hunter of agile animal blood,
no less accomplished in tracking human scent,
howsoever feeble and distant that might be,
a singular trait that makes me make a mark
tracing criminals as super-sleuth bloodhound.
July 12, 2019
Contest : Pick a title, vol.6-Personification
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh
Title chosen : The Bloodhound
À propos preponderant passion penning poems...
posited puzzling apt aperçu...
While pondering particular
theme to address
amidst tangled wide, whirled
webbed mental skein
today November third
two thousand twenty two,
unexpected Möbius strip
tease conundrum unforeseen,
yet as avid aspiring wordsmith
only now I became keen,
which unflagging vexillological,
theoretical, rhetorical, philosophical...
narratological, linguistical, judgmatical
historical, fantastical, didactical,
and bibliographical predicament
may not suddenly find me
flush with green
i.e. profuse legal tender,
but merely thought provoking
puzzlement addresses following quandary
stuck within gray matter of pate
impossible mission to differentiate
jagged fine line between
passion and obsession
case in point strong
affinity to write of late,
cuz yours truly susceptible
toward compulsion that doth not abate,
and mind boggling to wed healthy
love of language analogous as mate
nsync with psychological trait,
viz excessive compulsion
diagnosed years gone
by courtesy professional
mental health specialists, did annotate,
and I admit behavior impossible to satiate,
thus generating aforementioned query
how does one (me) segregate
productive interest versus excessive,
née fanatical all consuming -
affinity towards English language
I loopily, quirkily verily narrate
oft times burning midnight oil
(albeit figuratively alluded
to wicked mister Arson Wells) witness
as logophile doth painstakingly toil
bajillion cerebral threads to uncoil,
whereby utilizing figurative tweezers
uprooting, untangling rhyme I embroil
(even using Scooby Doo conditioner)
metaphorically beneath mine royal
hirsute (Scottish) matted topsoil
ultimately bringing in top gun
uncannily resembling gargoyle
shape shifting between
comical characters such as
Popeye and Beetle Bailey
at lightspeed as if
greased with Olive Oyl
so watch out Bluto,
get ready for turmoil!
In a universe, ablaze with color, so vivid and profuse,
Exist hues of boundless spectrum, in a kaleidoscopic muse.
Galaxies twirl in distant realms, adorned with stellar light,
Painting the cosmic canvas, in the eternal, enchanting night.
Stars, like glowing brush strokes, dot the infinite expanse,
Igniting tales of time and matter, in an astral, majestic dance.
Comets, with tails of iridescent glow, streak through the spatial field,
Adding streaks of brilliant white, to the universal shield.
Nebulae, the cosmos’ blossoms, in pink and azure bloom,
Cradling stars within their folds, in a celestial, nurturing womb.
Black holes, veiled in mystery, and cloaked in the unseen,
Draw all into their silent depth, a void, serene and clean.
Planet Earth, our verdant home, a palette rich and wild,
Bears blues of tranquil oceans, upon the canvas, gently styled.
Emerald of rustling leaves, and browns of the fertile earth,
Reflect the myriad of lives and dreams, constantly in rebirth.
In this cosmic artistry, where every speck of dust contains,
Histories of universe’s birth, and of celestial, distant plains,
We find ourselves as artists, with palettes to create,
Our own vibrant tapestries, in the canvas of our fate.
May we paint with love and kindness, with hues of peace and grace,
Adorning every moment, in the time and space we trace.
And gaze upon the universe, with wonder, love, and awe,
Understanding in its vastness, a beauty without flaw.
In the infinite palette, where stars and souls ignite,
Let’s paint our stories boldly, in this boundless, eternal night.
In the masterpiece of existence, let our lives be a vibrant thread,
Creating patterns of love and joy, in the cosmic tapestry spread.