Long Pull through Poems

Long Pull through Poems. Below are the most popular long Pull through by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pull through poems by poem length and keyword.


Life

Begin at the beginning is a good place to start
It makes this poem less tart 
sliding from oozed cocoon box
the lions have dens, the holes for fox 
screaming is the first noise issued 
followed by the orchestra, snap of tissued 
help, first comfort, live source 
growing, crawling, helped by guiding force 
noise, turns to speech of understanding 
running with friends, heart finding new palpating 
severed from Mother, put into class 
many hours of sunshine day passed by glass
innocence and imagination creeping 
in Mind, sponge of perpetual learning 
Ten, innocence flirting with early romance 
ending child-like state, maturity dominance 
father gone, replaced by foreign rule 
never seen someone so cruel 
Middle and High, progress to Schools
thrown into pens with some fools 
many friends, smorgasbord variety 
some try maintaining sense of piety 
learn more about self but not all from schooling 
secret meetings of passion, extreme heat, then cooling 
growing both physically/mentally 
stress where to go, what possibly 
JC, CSU, UC?
sometimes they don't let you see
more to life then this madness 
never seem to reveal or confess 
Robe, with tassel hat and gown 
some stand up and some go down 
scattered pearls among swine 
some go far, some stay close, all fine 
some going here and there 
some make it with bruises, some skin fair 
becoming adults, transitional line 
hardships or smooth sailing we will fine
working and schooling 
but who are we fooling 
it can be hard, stressful for sure 
sickness, flu season, try to find a cure 
death, taken without warning 
all of these memories consuming 
had to get this out to you all
before my brain-kept fall 
seeing life and all its glory 
all its pitfalls, sometimes gory 
side, summarizing here 
shell-shocked there and there 
flowers all in a row 
my mind will grow and grow 
internal struggle through Academia and depression 
the world, external, reflecting recession 
we will pull through, hope 
Don't let them simply say, "Nope"
life, roller-coaster up 'n' down 
spin, spin, Dervish gown 
everything turns this way and that 
skinny, bloated and fat 
but Joseph crawled from the well 
after being pushed and fell 
light returns after cycle, night 
sometimes we must throw-done, fight 
don't give up, keep going 
keep doing what your doing
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member No Respect

Dedicated in memory of Mr Dangerfield, Rodney.
He was a comic few will ever forget.
He is most known probably for his classic routine;
"I Don't Get No Respect.
When I was born the doctor delivered to my parents the very sad news.
"We tried everything, but I'm sorry, he managed to pull through."
I Don't Get No Respect.
I remember taking my first steps so vividly
and then dear old Dad tripping me.
I Don't Get No Respect.
I asked Dad if I could go ice skating on the lake with all of the others.
He then said to me, "Wait until it gets warmer."
I Don't Get No Respect.
My mother practiced this form of birth control constantly.
Whenever Dad wanted sex, she'd show him a picture of me.
I Don't Get No Respect.
"I lost my parents. Do you think we'll ever find them?" I cried.
"I don't know," said the policeman, "There's so many places they can hide."
I Don't Get No Respect.
In the kidnapper's note to my parents for ransom
it read, "Give us five thousand dollars or you'll see your kid again."
I Don't Get No Respect.
Last night, my wife wearing a sexy negligee met me at our front door all alone.
There's just one problem with this scenario. She was coming home.
I Don't Get No Respect.
My wife phoned and said, "Come on over. There's nobody home."
When I arrived, guess what? There was nobody home.
I Don't Get No Respect.
During sex my wife always wants to talk to me.
She called me from a hotel recently.
I Don't Get No Respect.
One day I came home from work early
and saw a man run naked jogging past me.
I asked, "Why are you jogging naked buddy?"
He replied, "Because you came home early."
I Don't Get No Respect.
"What'll ya have?" the bartender asked me.
Indecisive I replied, "Just surprise me."
So he pulled out a naked photo of my wife for me to see.
I Don't Get No Respect.
I went to a hooker, thinking it might be nice.
When I dropped my pants, she dropped her price.
I Don't Get No Respect.
My psychiatrist said that I'm going crazy.
"I'd like a second opinion," I replied to she.
"Very well," she said, "You're also ugly."
I Don't Get No Respect
I told my psychiatrist, "I'm going to kill myself when I get the chance."
She told me I'll have to start paying her well in advance.
I Don't Get No Respect.
No Respect At All.
I've had enough of all of this.
This is my final curtain call."
Form: Rhyme

You Tell Me To Stand As You Hold Me Down

The day I have to watch what I say 
Is the day I wake up to see that I lost myself 
Ask me why I want to run away As your screaming at me everyday 
Ask me why I can't stand my life 
When every time I stand up you push me from behind  
Tell me the world is at my feet and you will always be there 
When I look around and see my family crying to my face and scheming when I walk away 
Tell me to fix my life when my life is locked so far away from me I can't even see myself in the mirror
Now ask yourself why isn't she happy 
We promise the world when she leaves 
Only to dangle her dreams out of reach 
Why do my words mean so much to you 
When the world can see that you aren't true
But behind close doors you don't have a clue 
You told me if I was lost you would find me 
But when tears stream from my face and I tell you 
Daddy, I don't know what I am doing 
Daddy, help me through Daddy please I really need you 
A stone face looks at me and says You've been lost for years 
I'm sure you will pull through 
My hate has been mistake for strength
And your hate and my hate 
Broke a soul I can never remake 
You tell me emotion are for the weak 
We beat them down till they are on full retreat 
I lived a life of feelings and friends 
And that was when I was at my weakest 
So you pulled me back in 
But daddy can I tell you have you ever cried yourself asleep 
Because your words cut to deep.
Have you ever been so happy that you promised yourself nothing could take that away 
Just to see a knife to your throat by the person that swore to protect you 
Imagines of the past rip through my future 
As every step becomes cold and calculated 
Disappointment is easier to handle then success 
And pain is more acceptable then love 
Now keep wondering why I can't fix my life 
When the only things I can count on happening 
Is everything in this world that would bring down the strongest person 
Tell me to move forward and remember you kept  me down so long I forgot how to walk
And then explain to my friends why I Flinch away from everyone’s hands 
So how can I be better dad, when you taught me to run and hide?
I wish I could fix myself I've even prayed that one day everything would be ok
But if you and your life for me taught me anything 
It's don't hope and don't dream It's better to just pretend 
And wait until this life ends
© Sejia Valo  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

The Long Race

Live life as if today is the last,
In a lane with only one speed-fast,
With a direction of your own to become someone,
A twist of hope and faith will get the job done.
With different sounds that flies from ear to ear,
The sounds boom to the beat with fear,
To give a hit with a meaningful symbol,
Pounding in one’s head to a beat to making a heart feel full,
So we all become full on the green paper we call money,
But remember, in the wrong hands it can tear like a joke so funny.
Use this as a reality check,
‘Cuz little poems like this is like a car wreck.
A car wreck where your life flashes before,
Giving you a direction to another world, another door.
As the bigger picture starts to rush towards us,
Thinking fast is the only way, but feels as a rush.
A rush to make choices and become someone or just be another face,
Just don’t make the mistake to give up in a race.
The race has a beginning and an end,
With one heart to either pull through-or turn around the bend.
Where do you want to stand at the finish line?
With your head laying on your resting bed,
Being that person with only words that were said?
Or having that heart and accomplished dreams to be remembered when you’re 
gone.
A big thing to remember is it’s the deep words that can bring out the best or worst 
in one.
And the basics of how we live is up to you,
No matter what your past is or if you’re looked from others eyes as a fool.
Take that step of hope and faith and use the key we all hold,
And never let someone take it or ask for the key to be sold,
‘Cuz once behind those chains of wrecks and the past,
The locks become heavy with more master keys to uncast. 
Only those who don’t give into the hardship of the rock,
Will become that someone to the world of our own,
And even then well have haters that don’t want you to be shown.
Shown because of talent, hard work, and a heart so fresh and strong,
And don’t listen to anyone who tells you you’re wrong,
Wrong for taking that step into the reality of having a big dream,
With the spot light coming down on you like the sunshines beam.
So all that’s said it can be you,
No matter how far through life you’ve gone you can make it through,
Opening the chains that have buried a known face,
Make it so you’re steps away from winning life-the long race.

Soldier of Battles

SOLDIER OF BATTLES..    Steve Hudson

It started, in silence, in infancy; the eyes look beyond the darkness
To understand the sounds of rage, echoes of misunderstanding,
The beginnings of normalcy wrought with disturbance,
Bereavement for the loss of innocence and the first lesson learned.
The lines in ground becoming clearer.
The only thing that ever came easy for me is warring,
Not because I chose the ground, but because it chose me.
Here is your sword; here is your battle,
The field is endless and there is no turning back,
So find your heart and find your place among the ranks
You sojourn with.
You tell one another it will be okay, and that we will pull through,
But no one really knows.
Its only after our first encounter and mortal blow that we find some
Courage to face another foe.
The welcomed peace endured for a season, then skies darken
On eminent splayed horizons and shadowy realms of spirit
You try to make sense of the next wave of terror,
Taunted and vexed at every turn.
Your enemies take form in shapes of, what is true?
Wrestling, pondering among bloody concepts and the why.
Wounds received through fearful encounters take shape of scars,
Scars take shape of trusted moments carried through
Onslaughts of deception.
Fallen men on smoldering ground, tormented by hounds of confusion.
This is how it started, but not how it ended for you see, 
There was One we found in heated skirmish
Battle hardened and sure footed, the spear and shield wielded
With skillful hands, He inspired confidence in us all.
On days we found respite, He sat with us and taught strategies in warfare,
The secrets to winning the hearts and minds of defeated bretheren.
The certainty and comfort in His eyes, told stories of ancient victories held.
A kingly stature though plain to view, never considered Himself better
Then the lowliest man I knew.
We asked about some of the scars He brandished, 
“They are scars received from the greatest of man’s struggles,” He said,
He got them while defending the poorest of souls.
It was then we understood, it was of us He spoke.
So now we gladly fight for this One who became the captain of our heart,
We’ve learned from the truths that have pierced our very souls,
our greatest cause and reason to be.
A soldier of battles was He…
© Angel Fire  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ode


The Tale of My Birth

Hot as hell, emotions fire the flames, 
Nervous about meeting doctors, nurses, 
Curtain separates them from congregation,
The veil is not torn in two, but steamy adulation, 
Courts their friendship sessions to distance, 
Bible fanatic from mum, with a secular pretence: 
Stationed to obey that mile that you go, 
Faithful to womb child who does overthrow, 
That divine validation of mundane everyday life, 
Which never does blot his copybook, he’s your invisible wife, 
Just because nothing bad happens, then he’s loving, 
To be a feature of your relationships and thinking,
So good to give you a furtherer of your animations, 
So fine to set converts and following by time within your devotions: 
Baby born, and the first thing they said was Jesus! 
But I did adjust like a jet, right arm spasm, religion to suss, 
Because i had not related perfectly to my mum at all in her beauty, 
By getting into a tizzy, a fix about her vaginal cavity:
The umbilical chord did suffocate around my neck, 
Three times, and three times to many, ‘cos i hit the deck, 
Put in an incubator, a machine my life to sustain, 
Where i didn’t depend on maternal caresses to obtain, 
That blooming continuation that does greatly assure you of your future, 
You expectations, your understandings and boundaries to nurture; 
The machine of oxygen and warmth did suffice, 
To love this new born child as cold as ice,
To spiritual things and to worlds unknown, 
By humankind who only know hell when it’s thrown;
And as I did lurk in my hospital bedroom, or ward, 
Like a businessman who is playing the sure investment card:
I wished so much that black book to just disappear, 
As it only wrought despair, anxiety and tumultuous fear; 
My parents friends, stone cold as delinquent thieves, 
Prayed though those days as they sang “Bringing In The Sheaves,” 
Whilst appendices of nurses added that they’d do, 
Convincing my parents, including doctor-trained dad, that I’d pull through, 
They just read the bible to me, over and over, 
Through glass ventilator, that separator which did cover,
Happy as chuck, pleased as punch and relaxed enough, in that clever machine, 
I clearly didn’t see what they did mean, 
Because I was dressed in the NHS, nothing less, 
Never this sin to render or confess.

My Only Childhood Friend That Never Threw Me Away

She's on the Verge
Joe cool
She talks to her hand
like seriously duh
the joke im not telling
we used to be witches writing poetry in coffee shops
smoking pot in serene gardens
and if it wasn't for Ginger my dog
that ran away to make love to Winchester
when she was in heat
we never would have met when we were eight
and still friends
but she tells me its because of me she's crazy

She wants me to remove pro creations that are stalking her
something tells me she's visited the funny farm too many times
I've been there
I've seen it
I know
But me and Joe
we are two of a kind
But I could be bluffing
maybe we're part of a royal flush

I'm space ace from mars
and she's a voodoo queen
to complete the circle of a long lost God in Girlfriend
Only the watchtowers know what that truly means

How did i get soo lucky her mother asked
but I'm not lucky at all
count your blessings and learn to read between the lines
because this mystic in your life
from your tree of fruits and loins did she fall
I'm a gullible god
and so are you
the tower of Babel has fallen
and she doesn't know what to do

so when she speaks the tongue of spirituality or which
and all you hear is psycho babble
it doesn't sound like 
sneesh cheep bleep flap jip hap frew
she makes sense to me with words shes obsessing
i just wish you would take it on yourselves to read up on it
to understand her to communicate
instead of sending her to the hospital

Those pills make her
talk to her hand
and those lies are mostly true
fact is stranger than fiction
and together your family can pull through
even those doctors
are a little bit mad at that tea party
and shes never thrown me away after what I've been through
i love her to pieces
so should you

shes always been there for me
and when we lose touch she searches high and low for me
when you lose touch 
there are more than one thing u can do

shes had exorcisms
and a low self esteem
date rape by succesfull well respected men
and everyone said it was blasphemy
it's not easy but it could be worse
believe you me
she's beautiful on the inside
and soo many soo called sane people
are beautiful outside
but uglier than sin if you ask me

The foreshadowed clouds Mon Karigor Lyrics

SONG CREDITS :


Song : Mon Karigor 
Singer : Tahsan 
Lyric : Robiul Islam Jibon 
Tune : Imran Mahmudul 
Music : Imran Mahmudul 
Album : Mon Karigor 
Label : Cd Choice 
Cast : Azim Uddula & Saowla 
Director : Chandan Roy Chowdhury



Lyrics:

The foreshadowed clouds , wanderer within the sky
Not an easy one to tame through dispersing whisk

A faded glory wither down the colors, once held dear to heart
Once a plethora, a handful of gatherer bestowed, inner, introvert

Living through a mistaken grace
Rusty salty warm tears , a brimming trace
Genesis you said, Xanthosis, through these emotions, lingering long, worldly boom, recess


Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….

A painstaking lump some pain, overwhelming drowning a pour
Speechless a corridor and an ambling, nonetheless, lo and behold! None to hold accountable.

Wishful a mirror , a thousand whims
Ambivalence and a croon, tricking down the chicks of time, on lime.

Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….

The sand castle dream , too fragile a misfit, a shore the lively stream
Morbid a shore, enacted, plays along the indifferent acted upon, among the walks of dream

Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….

||END||


                 "Copyright Disclaimer" 

Copyright Disclamer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976,allowance is made for "fair use" for purpose such as criticism, comment, news reporting, scholarship and research, fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringe. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the blance is favor or fair use.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Joy Baby

There was a taste of magic in the air with the newly found joy of anticipating                                            fatherhood, and a little bit of the mystique as I considered the reality of me                                                
bringing forth an extension of myself.  O the wonder of our Masterful Creator.                                                    But there was also the element of fear, wondering if he/she will be normal.

In Southern Wisconsin just across the Illinois state line on Friday, August 31, 1973, there was plenty of stress on the job, but there was pure family joy in our hearts. So much joy in fact that our new born's middle name would be Joy.                                                                            

But that did not stop questions from pouring into our young minds.
And with so many choices, what on earth shall we name our first child?                                                                                                                 Ours was such a good doctor that we allowed him to select her first name.
I worried about my wife's health because the 'morning sickness' was severe.                                                 But because of the Grace of God and the tender display of compassion and love by our elderly neighbor, my dear wife was able to endure and pull through.                                                                                                  

We lived in the rural at least 10 miles from the nearest hospital, but I don't                                           
remember being concerned in the least about that.  Instead, we wondered about other matters such as: Will I be in the delivery room to see our baby born? (No. I missed it by 'minutes'). Are we going to breastfeed or feed with conventional milk? (We breastfed her).  Will our baby be a boy? Or, will our baby be a girl? (Our baby was a girl, and we named her Pamela Joy) What about the height and weight? ( I Do not remember; more research required). All was safe, sane and sound. But parents will persist with What if ...? What if...? What if?
07032018PoetrySoupContest: Joys And Tears of Being An Expectant Parent,
Guillermo-Fraser
Form: Prose

Premium Member Golden 2

It is undoubtedly true. At times I doubted that we would pull through.
Remember this: Although the journey is difficult, within site is destiny.

Not far from the banks of a large and winding lake, about a mile away from where my bride's life story began, is where there stands a little country church. It's where the two of us presently worship. 

For documentation, both the Android and iPhones were there.
The parishioners sat patiently in the pews to witness.
The mistress of ceremony conducted us faithfully.
And the minister officiated and prayed for us.
And then, there we were, my bride and me,
renewing our wedding vows after 50 years.

I realize that it truly is history, but still at times,
it all seems a big mystery. Notwithstanding, I spend
no time in wonderment about where all the time went.
The decades of time are swallowed up inside our hearts,
and there it shall dwell until the two of us in our race                                                                                     
toward oneness in marriage have turned to dust.

The mystic of marriage is the pursuit of two becoming one.
Such mathematical feat does not make sense for mortal man.
Yet, since Adam and Eve, that has been God's Divine plan.

My bride and I said, "I do" in 1972, and we said it again Sunday, in 2022.
Through mountains of gain as well as through valleys of pain, our love has
remained.  Albeit, so much has changed.  And yes, it's most certainly true.                                                                    
Our beautiful bodies have been totally rearranged. But our love remains.

Our God has been so very near and awesomely dear.  In spite of our own                                                          
fears and tears, it is His Grace that has gotten us here.  We always thrive
to do our best, but the secret is out no less.  I tell you.  The secret is this:                                                       
There is no gold at the end of the rainbow, and my bride and I have not                                                                      
nor will we reach marital perfection.

070622PSCtest, Anniversary. Sara Kendrick
Form: Narrative

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