Long Purposely Poems
Long Purposely Poems. Below are the most popular long Purposely by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Purposely poems by poem length and keyword.
You've studied me like a book, while the whole time I've let you,
Even went to the extent to lie, and used everyone around you,
Professing knowledge like you knew before it's existence,
Yet the whole time you owned it you were in the middle of your own experience,
The keeper of his word kept his promises the day I walked away,
I didn't need to lift a finger, or strain to explain,
I didn't need to prove the dream ever existed,
I stopped trying to relay the message, and trusted God in the process,
I sat in the mud purposely, so you could become free,
The sacrifice was worth more than any degree,
Did you forget where I came from??!, My heritage speaks,
The inheritance of my generations lay it down at His feet,
The least are the greatest in the sight of my God,
And when we are weak, our hearts remain strong,
You entrusted me with a gift, and through faith I believed,
Otherwise my king would of never handed me that key,
So who is the owner of the gift, you ask?, it's certainly not me,
But if he asks me to hold it for him, in my heart I'll intercede,
I'll believe in his promises to break down these walls,
I'll stand firm in his love until those barriers are gone.
I was the official jar opener in our house
Until this jar of Bick's Pickled Beets
Knocked me off my perch
Mr. He-Man here is now fighting off severe depression
It's a conspiracy, cause I was acting too much like a smart ass
That lid tightening machine heard about me
And is purposely making the seal tighter
So no actual human can open it without farting
And then it's still basicly impossible
I think the government should pass a law
That prohibits this kind of practice
To prevent us from ending up crying like a baby
And sucking our thumb all cuddled up in the corner
My dear wife decided to give it a shot
And apparently with no struggle at all
She managed to open the damn stupid thing
As I always say, “I loosened it for you!”
You can visit me in an old folks home
3:00 to 4:00 every weekday afternoon
And between 1:00 and 6:00 on weekends
© Jack Ellison 2014
as we commemorate the 10th anniversary of a day we'll always remember
over three thousand lives taken on the eleventh day of September
but for the grace of God it might have been me
to have been one of those lives taken away in the midst of that tragedy
life is a series of sequences and events that take place
and I know that as a child of Christ I'm living under His grace
at the time I had a job that was located in tower seven
but on that day I was in Brooklyn or I might have died and gone to heaven
safe in the borough of Kings working at the primary election polls
far away from the events that on New York took such a toll
the nation and the world were shook to their foundations
that anyone would dare to strike at the very heart of our nation
two airliners purposely driven into the World Trade Center Twin Towers
an attack on American soil in the early morning hours
and as I sit in church today on our annual Homecoming day
I reflect on the fact that many will never come home again
mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, co-workers, family and friends
and while I sit in this anointed pew
the awesomeness of the glory of God in me has been renewed
a day to remember as we share the communion of our Lord Christ
a day to also remember a day that forever changed our lives
I see her there in our backyard,
Pushing our youngest on the swing,
Were it just six short months ago
She would’ve been my everything.
Back before I could understand,
Before the scales fell from my eyes,
Before the truth of our marriage
I did come to realize.
Six months ago I was working
for an architectural firm,
we were making big skyscrapers,
plentiful money did I earn.
But then a big client left us,
and the money became real tight,
me and eight others were laid off
after that nothing did go right.
At first Monica was smiles,
“You’ll find another job, you’ll see,"
but the market wasn’t that great
so things didn’t go that smoothly.
The first interview went nowhere,
she said,”You will get on in time.”
The second ended just the same,
she said,”Well something you will find.”
After two months the support waned
and annoyance came to her eyes,
so I did part-time in fast-food
to bring in some cash on the side.
I thought this would make her happy,
it was money and it was work,
she just snarked,”Yes, all little girls
dream of marrying fast-food clerks.”
After that it seemed every night
she would give me a snide comment,
until the first fight erupted
that she purposely did foment.
Every night was the same refrain,
how I had fallen short and failed,
every day I pounded pavement,
but it seemed to no avail.
Before long I slept on the couch,
and all chance of sex was gone,
she couldn’t look at me without
implying that I had done wrong.
The damnable thing about it
was that my wife herself did work!
We had no danger of starving,
but she still made every day hurt.
I even caught her late one night
flirting with some ex online,
she just shrugged,”At least Danny still
Is getting paid for his time.”
At this point, five trying months in,
when It seemed my life would be robbed,
a rival firm gave me a call,
then offered me a full-time job.
It didn’t pay quite like the last,
but I was making ample coin,
that night we did have sex three times,
Monica no longer looked annoyed.
At first I was glad just to work,
grateful to cover all my costs,
but as the weeks went flying by
something continued to feel off...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
? The ANGELS ENVY YOU
If those the Hearts
Eyes, would spies on you;
Then your mindset could dawn on you;
So such a scene, it would view...
Enlightenment ! Encouragement !
Compliment, Endearment
every present- tense,
as the Angels envy you;
The Father's Sweet blessing
raining down on you
For they see the Father's embrace;
As He endowed you with His grace, O' dearest;
Woman of God;
You're divinely purposely love...
Alas, the Angels envy you;
Staring into your eyes into your soul, heart- speaks;
The Father's sweet blessings raining down on you The Angels' ENVY YOU
6/30/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
I wonder
about wandering into sacred history
Back
remotely far
in collective memory
before humanity,
When EarthTribe regenerativity
was all compassionately gifted
divinity,
Panentheistically expressed
in ecofeminist panting Earth's
great rapturously gifted
economic ecology
of volcanic overflowing
and infilling relationships.
I wonder,
back before male religious cultures
and anthrosexual contagious climates,
were our elders' sensory
linguistically
meaningfully sacred prime ego-relationships
then LeftBrain purposely
separated from RightBrain deep meaning
In a precisely either/or
dissociative producer/consumer way
away from divine/humane companionship
as were sensuality
of morally healthy polycultures
democratically balancing
nonviolent co-governing
communication,
Long
long
before Earth's great wondrous turning,
before verbal dominance
when religious dogma
overcame spirited natural experience
felt like communioned
EarthTribe therapeutic reconnection
With all creatures here below
awake outside
riding on sacred Earth,
a land
and sea
of rich communications
enveloped in resonant
musical companionship.
I wonder
if all mammaling muses asked
invited
absorbed animally within
among each creaturely Other
inviting nonviolent hospitality
in healthy democratic return
of wealthy multiculturally reconnecting
sensual co-empathic
politically empowering communications
Of economically enlightened
panentheistic companions
celebrating co-empathic
real time polypathic gifts
Wondering
as we wander
into sacred polycultural
history
of healthy ecosystems
producing whole-sum gifts.
Caged
Ill-fated dreams caged in the sphere of
doom drowns in tears
Reawaked by the horde of indescribably
old unforgiving monsters
Facing fierce demons taunting the heart
battle to resist then go forth
Still forsaken and purposely condemned
by his rapidly corroding self-worth
Penned: 12/26/2021
9:00 p.m.
Lake Worth, Florida
USA
Gentle caresses sweep my skin
with creeping tenderness,
devouring every curve of my body
and feeling its sizzling melt
against your skin.
Your loving gaze enters my soul
striking away all attempts
to keep the padlocked
heart and mind
shuttered from any harm.
Your finger tips tantalize
my womanly form
raising delightful awareness.
You lead my chin towards you
brush your nose and lips
over my face as you slowly
move towards my mouth
then meet, magically.
Explosive emotions
dynamite through my mind
as we meld together
powerless
I become putty in your hands
and you play purposely
mastering your art
knowing it’s your attention
to detail that matters
in loving me.
He speaks metaphorically to avoid dealing direct,
shows the unknown hand he’s against too much respect,
writes about his bravery though it’s no where to detect
or talks in the third person like this I'd expect.
Going on about himself like it’s happening to someone else,
distanced from reality his distracted mind plays stealth,
deflecting the desperation straying from his fails,
because being himself is hell with his fractured mental health.
You’d think he would try to save it but instead he stays away,
doesn’t acknowledge the slaying, writing on as if okay,
creates a situation where he has the final say,
when really just a coward putting himself on display.
He must have found comfort writing this because it's structured,
a new angle on the old tale nothing more than a distraction,
because as soon as it finishes he's back to a spineless buster,
hiding from conflict comforting another poor reaction.
How long will he go on paving this path of pathetic,
in a dangerous direction purposely neglected,
there’s the renegade he speaks of, self elected,
walking towards death being naturally selected.
But deep in this metaphor he doesn’t change a thing,
in his head it’s someone else or a tale of some thing.
To know what happens next go back where this poem begins,
now knowing what life is when your name is Nick Trim.
I am the virus
that plagues the air
my SUV purposely racing
the highway
choking the morning sun
You are the virus
With a misguided search for the truth
as humanity cries in protest
in false advertisement
Like a lie that will not lie down.
We are the real virus
As we covet this land
locust devouring our way
though our own existence
Our wants never ending
just a click away.
Forgetting this earth doesn’t’ belong to us
loaned to our mortality
with a debt our children cannot pay back.
Now earth is fighting back
fists balled tight
kicking and screaming
she coughed in our face
filling our lungs
with our own poison
for we have taken advantage
of a generous nature
Like spoiled brats
who had picked the old lady’s
flowers who lived next door
leaving her garden bare.