Long Pursuit Poems
Long Pursuit Poems. Below are the most popular long Pursuit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pursuit poems by poem length and keyword.
There were many unsavory jobs during the Second World War.
Some required guys to hunker down just a wee bit more!
None more so than "Tail-end Charlie" in the back of that old queen,
Known affectionately as the Flying Fortress, the B-Seven-teen!
Usually the smallest member of the ten-man bomber crew,
He was probably the most vulnerable target that ever flew!
Isolated in the tail end, genuflecting on his knees;
An appropriate position, imploring God with his fervent pleas!
Awakened from his reverie to face a day in the terror-filled sky,
Today's mission over the fatherland, nearly six miles high!
A Messerschmitt slides in to attack directly out of the sun;
"Charlie" sends him to eternity with a short burst from his gun!
Flak and shell around him would whistle, zing and hiss.
In his training days he was told there'd be thrilling days like this!
Nearly freezing, tho' he wore a bulky heated flying suit,
Ever alert, watching his six-o'clock for that enemy pursuit!
Jaunty but brave, this warrior winging thro' God's celestial dome,
Praying that he can fly his twenty-five missions and get safely home.
A grateful nation bestowing awards for laurels won upon his breast,
Home to his beloved America for a well-deserved rest!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
In canvas of existence, a masterpiece unfolds,
Beautiful things take time, like tales of old.
A symphony of moments, intricately designed,
Each stroke of seconds, a work of art divine.
Like petals of roses, tenderly they sway,
Unfurling beauty, with each passing day.
The sculptor's chisel, chips away with care,
Revealing majesty, beyond compare.
Seasons of growth, like layers of earth,
Nourish the seedling, of radiant birth.
Sunbeams of patience, illuminate the way,
Guiding the journey, through life's busy day.
Rivers of time, flow smoothly to sea,
Shaping the shores, of destiny.
The weaver's loom, threads of experience spin,
Tapestry of wisdom, with each passing kin.
Oh, beautiful things, don't rush to the stage,
For premature blooms, wither in life's gauge.
Let moments mature, like ripening fruit,
Savoring sweetness, in patience's pursuit.
In patience's crucible, gold is refined,
Purified by fire, the heart and mind.
The beauty of time, like sunrise unfurls,
Revealing splendor, in life's whorls.
Embrace the wait, don't rush the pace,
For beautiful things take time, in every place.
Let patience's palette, paint life's design,
And beauty will bloom, in its own sweet time.
True to form, Eileen Ghali spins another tale of romance and passion, a tale of a woman hopelessly in love with….her husband! The Prostitution of My Love is a captivating story of a wife’s incessant need for love, her delirious craving for attention, and the offering of herself to fulfill his every sexual desire, for it is only then when she feels that she is the center of his universe as he is of hers.
Meanwhile, her beauty, charm, and sexual magnetism do not go unnoticed by her colleague, a handsome older man who pays her all the attention, care, and compliments that her hungry heart is yearning for. Will she be able to remain faithful to her husband or will she give in to the aggressive pursuit of this man to win her heart? Will her husband wake up in time to woo her back to his arms, or will his neglect be the final push into the arms of another?
The Prostitution of My love, Eileen Ghali’s strongest work on passion, has all the answers! You don’t want to miss this thrilling tale of love and longing.
To all the Misters
Who thought me a sister
Who found me a bore
In which to abhor.
Who tolerated me in "loving" pursuit of something "else"
Than "love 'til death do us part" as chimes
The whimsical of chapel wedding bells:
I do apologize for having stayed so long
I wish you well, though I dismissed you "gone"
Please do know...from the depth of my soul
I wouldn't have stayed so very long
But, if I did over-welcome my stay., I'll just have you know
I only did embedding the simple thought deep in my soul
That YOU were suitable for me to build MY dream,
Fulfill my goals and visions - yet unforeseen
First thing's first: A "safe" haven is what you miss
All for YOUR exchange altar-trade - a dollar for a kiss....
Frantically, I walk on a lane of vile secrets,
past glared dazes from hooded eyes
marking me as obsession’s target where a quest
to nail me taunts my fear : with endless
shrieks echoing , “ I will follow you, “ … a voice
raspy as brittle tones imposes its eerie
presence. And I quiver in coiled form,
Helpless, while the breath of uncertainty
wipes the restful assurance of most nights:
In a click of time, life smells danger
knowing not if those taloned hands would
clutch me in the darkness or light.
All at once, I watch myself drenched
In the cloud of foreboding , torturing
my lucid hours now haunted by one
incensed predator. Until I confront this
ghastly shadow laden with karmic
sins, wolves of yesterday assaulting my every
breath's intake…that I come face to face
with this damned nemesis in guileful pursuit
and the nemesis which haunts my spirit …is me.
Written for Silent One: STALKER 11/13/2017
Jazz piano scale skip quick notes implore me
Siphon symphony verve blurred by saxophone sass
Floated lilly pad leap frog spring legged surety
Splats on brass buttoned soldiers dedicated amass
Bulbous glass swirl burgundy grape stem bitter
Absorbs oak barrel sentiment, forested persuasion
Ace praise expires, a swiftly swallowed splinter
Comical dive antics of cork fragmenting abrasion
Dissolving Elizabeth, shabbily written character
Simmered limply submissive, a nouveau improvisation
Vat of pursuit poured by Stu picks a passenger
Chords hover mahogany piano cascade syncopation
Composition three minute summit misconstrue
Violins textured crescendo vibrates bow tight strings
Apron strewn, Libby leaves her rolling pin askew
Butter heart hails harmony a true companion brings
22nd January
Stu calls me Jasmine
Sheaths of grass dry, dance in the arid field brown
In pursuit of green dreams, meander lives around
Counting its days, a wild plant wilts on ground
Obscured by sudden nimbus clouds, cries the sombre sky
Tear drops of the dreich sky wallop the vast land dry
Sky's tears, sustenance to the wild plant about to die
Starts cascading, the divine drops, one, two, three...
The drenched grateful land grins with glee
Descending drops,
Raise the pulse rates of the wilting crop
Sighs the wild plant as sign of hope
As raindrops swell,
the life-span propels;
August-21-2021
For the contest 'imagism' by Emile Pinet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once were three chicks: Ally, Babba, and Louise
They wanted to go hiking, but each had problematic knees.
“Oh our knees are so weak,
Oh our torn cartilage” they shrieked.
We’ll go to the mall, rent a Segway, if you please.”
Ally, Babba, and Louise were quite bold and astute,
To the mall they went, in feathery pursuit.
A Segway they hired,
Then, onward, inspired,
To Cheesecake Factory before hiking, toot-toot-toot-toot!
But then the menu appeared! Oh what to do?
Chicken was on the menu, a feathery stew.
Waitress served them chicken ragout
Frightened, their faces turned blue.
"Good heavens!" they cried. “Let’s get outta here. "Coo-coo-coo!"
Being free from all pain, all craving, all restless nights,
a body unshackled, bones light as wind,
a mind quiet as the midnight sky.
The road has been long, traveled alone,
yet the journey circles back to where it all began
the center, the unknown, the all.
Silence speaks louder than words,
profit whispers only in stillness.
Freedom demands a cost;
sacrifices rise like mountains in our path.
Scoffers laugh, renounce the truth,
destroying themselves in shadows
while the awakened watch silently.
Chances never existed.
Only Laws have always turned the wheel.
Free will dances in the faculties,
but the heart knows its own rhythm.
Once man awakens,
his true essence unfolds,
and the past, present, and future
dissolve into the quiet pursuit of liberation.
Are you ready to shed the flesh that binds you?
To release the chains of desire, of speech, of thought?
The heart holds the key.
The warrior waits, patient, silent,
striking only when truth calls.
Liberation is shedding the hunger that binds the soul,
letting the body breathe without craving,
free from the chains of fleeting pleasure.
Liberation is silence beyond words,
speech untangled, thought unshackled,
for every uttered word can cage the mind.
Liberation is release from pain, from desire,
from the endless tug of the finite self.
It is the soul rising above the wheel,
untouched by the weight of flesh,
beyond the pull of fleeting emotions.
How much will you surrender for your freedom?
Flesh clings, mind resists,
but the heart whispers the path of the true warrior.
Man holds the key to his own liberation —
not in noise, nor in struggle,
but in quiet, in courage,
and in the patient shedding of all that is not eternal.
© By: Kentrell Parker
California precincts cannot issue life saving article of congress to homeless citizen.
Federal cases against staff are filed.
Resignation of clerical error is the literal overnight pursuit to guilt
Defrauded homeless reservations are interesting mortgage annuities currently.
Trades of Conviction Bail
As sustainable measure of federal reserve
function post fraud is fraud
Failure to resign vote is testimony
and article before congress
Trades of Conviction Bail
As sustainable measure of federal reserve
function post fraud is fraud
Failure to resign vote is testimony
and article before congress
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
Unincorporated districts measure of need methods and means to obtain premise of signatures
Homekey Fraud thousand oaks California
Private property assembly
Ok journal
Objective pro
Con
Resent all bills?
Write article of congress rebuttal against politician
Maintain reader on ship with sails?
Free speech is discussed newspaper not campaign rhetoric of welfare fraud lobby children corruption of municipal bonds and municipal works building keys they inherited
These people are journalists!