Long Provide for Poems
Long Provide for Poems. Below are the most popular long Provide for by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Provide for poems by poem length and keyword.
Nightly, I wander in shadows of a recurring dream
and find myself wading through a shallow stream.
The Ancient of Oaks calls from beyond the thickets,
its gentle whispers mingling with chirping crickets.
I cannot guide my steps in the direction of choice,
for if I disobey, his leaves rustle in grumbling voice,
"Enter the forest, child, without fear of what I ask.
Moon and I will guide you with each virtuous task."
In the forest of my dreams, my path alters each night.
Sometimes I run to follow a nightingale in lofty flight.
There are times when I must free myself from a maze,
or suckle from mother fox, a kit waiting for her praise.
One starless night, I stumbled on a gnarled tree root
whose existence moments before, I dare not dispute,
for the Ancient One is very aware of every step I take.
Forest fauna watch over me 'til first light of daybreak.
I am puzzled why a forest sylph, I was chosen to be.
Ancient One said I would understand all the mystery
when after the last of my journeys comes to an end,
and I'd comprehend that my dreams were a Godsend.
So I do not question when his branches point me East
to right a wrong committed, turning famine into feast.
Or travel North and South, tending a nation that bleeds,
with a message to forests to provide for hunger's needs.
Each morning I awake with the memory of my dream,
my feet wet from wading through a shallow stream.
Some day soon, I hope to learn the reason for my quest.
Tonight I'll be in the forest when the sun sets in the West.
April 17, 2021
In the Forest of My Dreams Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
To a sapling, the truth is its own root system. Unseen, it delves into the darkness of the earth, not to impress the wildflowers or imitate the towering oaks, but to find its own necessary water and anchoring stones.
It does not worry if its roots twist in an unusual direction, or if a neighboring pine grows taller faster. It only knows its own need for depth, for the truth of the soil beneath it.
For this, above all: To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day; Thou canst not then be false to any man.
So it is that the young tree, in its steadfast authenticity, finds its voice. The unfurling of its own unique leaves and the branching of its limbs become a blueprint of its inner resolve.
It draws nourishment from the darkness, and in doing so, reaches for the light. As its trunk strengthens and its canopy spreads, it does not have to consciously decide to offer shade to the weary traveler or shelter to the nesting bird. Its generosity is the inevitable influence of its own secure growth.
For how could a tree, true to its own deepest needs, produce a withered branch? How could it, when anchored so profoundly in its own being, not provide for the life around it?
The shade it casts is an effortless gift, the fruit it bears a natural bounty. The tree does not fake a thicker bark or pretend to bear different fruit; it simply is. And in its quiet, undeniable existence, it nourishes the forest, making the very ground around it richer and more whole.
Its integrity is a silent echo in the wilderness, and all who pass beneath its leaves are better for it.
They survived the Great Depression, my parents did
living from hand-to-mouth for over a decade
Took any job they could get, and were grateful for it
working 72 hours a week for a ‘salary’ of twelve lousy bucks
My father watched grown men cry and jump out of tenement windows
ashamed that they could not provide for their families – two or three a day, he told me
My mother heard ‘dirty Jew’ hurled at her so often
she became obsessive about washing her hands and face…
…Yet when it came time to serve their country
they were first in line for the privilege of seeing America through WW2
Fighting side by side with fellow un-hyphenated Americans
Jewish or Catholic, from Italy or France – didn’t matter
Americans all, they fought their hearts out for the Stars and Stripes
for the land of the brave and the home of the braver
******
And now, it pains me to see what we’ve become on the cusp of our 250th birthday
Capitalists fleeing our signature city, NYC, run by an unrepentant socialist radical
‘Woke’ Governors, Congressmen and Mayors giving away ‘stuff,’
Free health care, free college, free food, free rent, free bus service, free, free, free
The greatest public misfit of any age, Bernie Sanders, the cheerleader egging it all on
And the devil himself, George Soros, quietly financing the destruction of the country
America! that saved his life, granting him refuge from the Nazis
******
May my mother and father, and their entire generation, rest in peace knowing they made
America great once and made us all so proud.
This is just a note to say,
I thought of you today.
I could see you in my mind,
When as a child you played.
I remember all the years,
Both the laughter and the tears;
The bandaged knees, the scary dreams,
I'd try to calm your fears;
And then of course there were the years,
That we were less than friends.
I loved you still but oft I thought,
Those years would never end.
You thought I was your enemy.
It tore apart my heart.
You couldn't see how much I cared.
It pierced me like a dart.
We fought because I cared for you,
And I was in the way.
We saw things differently, we two,
Not like it is today.
Now I think you understand,
You've children of your own.
You strive to give them all you can,
Provide for them a home.
It isn't always easy,
But you don't mind at all,
Because these are your babies,
And it's worth it all in all,
To know that they have all they need,
And that they're well and hearty;
For this is what a mother does,
It's not just one big party.
You're doing fine my darling girl,
But know that I'm still here.
Just as you're their mom for life,
I am yours my dear.
05.06.2020
Just because I’m a man
Does it mean a woman is a merchandise?
A device
I use any time anywhere to please myself with
Just because I'm a man
Does it mean a woman is a caretaker?
A housekeeper
Who cleans after me while I gallivant
Just because I’m a man
Does it mean a woman is a feminist?
An activist
Buzzing endlessly in my ears like a mosquito
Just because I'm a man
Does it mean a woman is somebody?
I mean a nobody
Whom I punch kick as I like to display my masculinity
Just because I'm a man
Does it mean a woman is a blunder?
A minor
Whom God said I should provide for
Just because I’m a man
Does it mean a woman is someone?
The one
Who sees how trashy am I but still let me stay
When our children are babies…it is a bonus…a plus
that their circle of life is small…it totally revolves around us…
Our job is to to keep them safe and happy and warm
to love them, provide for them…and shelter them from every storm.
And when they stumble or scrape a knee…when misfortune begins to rain
to be there with a hug…a smile and a band-aid to help to ease their pain.
But along the way,…for this is what life is meant to do,
their circle begins to broaden and expand…beyond our limited view.
And there comes a moment when they’re out of our sight…
a moment that on every parent….takes its toll…
when we realize we’re not always there to help them…
we no longer have that control.
It is the point…the moment…from where most parental worry stems…
when we realize we cannot stop…the world from hurting them.
But once our babies lives have expanded far beyond our view
not to worry…there is still something as parents we can do.
We can let our forever babies always be aware
that should they ever need us…in an instant…we’ll be there.
Recreating those times…when they were babies
we’ll be there to love, and hug and feed them….
we’ll bring our smiles, our hugs…
and our band-aids
should they ever need them.
I come from a time when fathers were looked up to.
They did whatever to provide for their family with food.
Some worked several jobs, ‘cause families were big, back then.
They had calloused hands, ‘cause they were actually men.
They never said nothing, but heard every, damn thing.
Making you wonder if they were some kind of Kings.
I can’t speak for everyone, but I know what I had.
An intelligent, black man, I could call my Dad.
Whatever he left me, it’s definitely in the Bloodline.
Because they’ll know about Jimmy, until the end of time.
He sure had a lot to do with who I am.
He gave me the sustenance to be a man.
Even in death, he deserves all my respect.
He taught me how to live through dealing with death.
I give him props, ‘cause that’s what Pops deserve.
Even in death, you are my jelly-preserve.
I'm usually quite upbeat in all my poems
So why should is this one be different
Going to make an attempt to come down off my cloud
And stop pretending everybody loves everybody
I'm certainly aware of the ills of the world
These constant flareups that have been happening
Since the very dawn of civilization
As a member of the human race
I'm certainly not proud of our record
Of constant conflict somewhere in this world of ours
They say us guys are very territorial
If that's the case, we'll never be able to coexist
With people of different colour, language and customs
We are bound to clash
It's quite natural to have differences
But why do these differences have to lead to war
Why can't we sit down as civilized people
And solve our differences
We humans are a combative bunch at the best of times
But the average person in the street
Doesn't want war, just wants to live their life in peace
Provide for their family and go about their business
All we want is to be happy
IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK
Thinking there was something going wrong,
It was situation of praise.
Something that couldn`t let black communities be on craze,
But emotionally, puts smile on the entire world face.
Urging and expanding the number of observers through unfailing phase.
On the street, I see passers who are all blacks,
They push heavy goods in their own cars.
Goods that are made out of faith.
That gives much thought of what motivations can enable their descendants create.
Though partiality have always been their fate,
Their concentration always pays them to be great.
They`ve proven the world wrong till date.
Making them that thought to be wise, now wish for a black man to be their mate.
But since yesterday is passed in haste,
Men wearing black skin have to tell them it`s late.
Because they refused to wait.
Black men live in happier days.
Decorated with perpetual age.
The aspiration which human effort can`t make.
It means a lot to tell about black genes.
Yes, in this walk with black skins.
Where we meet ourselves in fame and peace.
Black skin doesn`t show any sign of its carriers to be least.
Identifying the race of black indigenes,
Nature adores everything about black men in all regions.
Before us do we see billions of Africans and black indies,
Behind and beside us are enormous of ******* and carrebians.
Strong in their thinking faculty.
Beautiful in society.
Since black skin elaborates uniquely on beauty,
It’s really exponential concerning its potency.
Time after time, black skin is maintained in decency.
Who dares to replace the charming appearance of black skin with any bleaching colourant?
Very funny to everyone who knows about the consequence it brings.
How sad it is for they that choose to buy bleaching cream for reformat,
And to them who swallow bleaching substance as their main drinks.
I`m sorry, this can`t lay on your table a vitality dish,
This can`t provide for you the charming look of your wish.
At every point of time, the sun and the moon reveals how precious black skin protects the body from deadly infections and unfriendly weather conditions.
If black man stands in front of a mirror, the mirror opens its heart with a lively intention,
Only to praise the outstanding blink of black skin out of superimposed imagination.
If God would take the moon
And make it into a great pie,
The sweet aroma of spice
And green apple would fill the sky.
He’d begin with the careful peeling,
Making the globe shining apple-white.
Then He’d find fixins’ to get it just right.
He would count the servings needed
For the whole world to be satisfied,
And choose just the right flavoring
To set all differences of taste aside,
But with all due respect to the bakers’ pride.
To provide for all the world’s problems,
God gives his secret spiritual answers.
So to the seasoning of the apples,
He adds His nine flavor enhancers.
With perfection, God takes no chances.
There is a pinch of peace, joy, and love,
For that aroma that rises above.
Then there is the patience, gentleness and grace,
So that humankind need not eat in haste.
He wants all to sense the goodness in the taste.
Next faith, modesty and moderation He adds,
And then more love he sprinkles in scads.
Here below our appetites we whet,
Our stomach’s pits to be satisfied.
Thankful for every morsel we get,
Until convinced our Lord is glorified.
Soon one could hardly see a crumb.
But we have no need at all to fear,
For at the end of daylight’s trusty gleam,
The moon again is a shining sphere.