Long Qualifies Poems
Long Qualifies Poems. Below are the most popular long Qualifies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Qualifies poems by poem length and keyword.
> I do not know if this qualifies as poetry. I take my ideas from the news, or what happens in life around me. I hope you don't mind. My good news is I do not have cancer now, and it's only just beginning to sink in. I wonder why I survived and not my younger sister. I would have given my life for her. Sadly He does not do deals either. does He?
I made a deal with Satan.
It's time to sleep.
It's time to sleep, to rest my head.
Upright on my frame adjusted bed.
Head held up, feet protected too.
Bet you wonder what I do?
Just pumping up my pressure mattress now.
Gives me back relief, somehow.
Air goes in air comes out.
Like that referendum, that's about.
Tonight I think, I must asleep. My cancer it has gone.
Hospital did peep. Inside of me with a CT scan.
They said, I'm clean, yes Stan the man.
No cancer rests inside of me. None of it could they see.
I guess now I am fit and well. Satan will call me now to hell.
You see, I made him a deal. Was not hard to do.
If he sent all innocents to heaven. I'd pay with my life, it's true.
Then when I'm lodging, deep up there. As hell is not here anywhere!
I'll sort hell out, that's what I'd do. Be soon, like heaven. I'm telling you.
No terrorists will reside there. I'll work that out, I don't care.
I'll get them to clean the furnace there.
Shut them all in no doubt. Oh no, I won't let them out.
I'll rake their ashes finally out. Scatter them, I will.
Not on land,will they fall. But sink in the oceans deep, they will all.
Then, heaven and hell will be okay. Oh! Did I forget to say.
The other pact I made with Satan was, for me to come back to earth!
Fighting fit, Armour on, ready to send all terrorists, right where they belong.
I've made a deal with Satan, and soon all terrorists will be gone.
Of course I would like to go to heaven when He calls But I wonder if I could really tolerate that floral dance of Sir Terry's for eternity. I have not really made a pact with the devil, honest, I would not know how. And it would take a far cleverer person than me to pull the wool over Satan's eyes. After all he is supposed to know everybody's bad points, isn't he? Have a nice day everyone. I did and as i said, the reality is just sinking in. (The mad author)<
In denial is a serious sickness
Watching every move I make
Simply because a word has been uttered to me
A minute time passed
With the hope that nothing has changed
How delusional of me
To have believed in an unknown situation
To have been sacred
Simply because another rejection was too expensive
What are the odds of realizing that all this time
I had known, but reality was never in the eyes?
Morning questions never answered
And having been a stupid but necessary move
To finally determine the standards of the situation
Should there have been another day
Of the same events, they will be ignored
As this time, it has been kept in the open
Every heartbeat felt
While waiting with anticipation
To either declare love or war
Some of it left to the ears of others
To leave a visible proof
That indeed it all happened
And that it is not an act of short period
Are times really that hard, that it is
Difficult to find what is true and pure?
That we settle for the bits that are thrown to us
Simply because society has standard charts that needs following.
What if dreams, victory and possessions
Required no hand of a man nor a name of his
Would the fair maiden really move up the ladder
To build the impossibility known only to be possible amongst men?
Are situations so bad that any men qualifies to be a shining Knight in Armour?
Some battles were created solely for women and them alone.
It is difficult, the first steps but eventually it becomes a routine, thus hair, face and body requires proper care and knowledge.
Promises are indeed, sometimes just plain words
That keep us in unseen prisons
For us to wait for judgement
While in actual truth,
We have the keys to open free and walk away
What every war has in an ending of things
And beginning of new things
After every storm is a rainbow full of life and sweet hopes.
While you close the final chapter
Know that the war of confusion and doubt
Has come to an end
And that no more are you a fool nor
Would you ever embarrass the dignity and pride
You hold so dear
Some goodbyes are keys to a happy life
Peace of mind and freedom
Let this be your anthem and shield
Next time it comes knocking on the door.
Over saturation with
welter weighted Yuletide
drenching world, web, wide
equal and/or greater
effort demands energy tide
to global warming,
lest apocalypse doth ride
high and mighty mandating,
inculcating, buoying... pride
toward planet Earth, the
apathetic, demonic, horrific,
plastic... malleable passive
can no longer run and hide.
Results elucidating, forthcoming,
groundbreaking courtesy of 23andme
nsync with network of
newly discovered cache of relatives
which painstakingly diligent
(joint) effort helped
map our family tree,
though her ardent effort
completed many months past I re:
visit substantially detailed
information about our genealogy,
this time (December)
of every year prompts me
now with particularly increased clarity
to conjure, imagine dragons,
order summon... glimpsing
mine Jewish ancestry,
yet nary handy
dandy blues clues,
not even one iota subsequently
qualifies yours truly to identify
with persecuted peoples be
leave me you,
a sudden fiery conversion
to immerse myself with Judaism fee
bull, nonetheless chronology
to broaden knowledge
base shockingly woke
greater awareness (i.e. truncated limbs)
regarding Holocaust soak
king unrepentant perpetrators
with blood on their
hands doth provoke
sadness more aware about
Eastern European distant
cousins bore yoke
of anti-Semitism
spiritually, figuratively
incises, didst stoke
albeit time delayed
vicarious pain, no matter broke
ken spirits long since
turned to dust, whereby
former ignorance (mine) linkedin
with smattering generations
of yore besmoke
horrors indelibly stitched within genes
comprising every bone
and sinew (mine).
Said heightened awareness
noticeably pronounced sudden
agonizing psychosomatic sensation
that did further third eye blind,
hence painful to open these brown eyes
already afflicted with severe myopia lined
with so called "floaters" necessitating
custom made bifocals, where Ophthalmic
laboratory technicians (manufacturing
opticians, optical goods workers, or kind
optical mechanics) deftly grind
cut, edge, and finish lenses according
to instructions provided by dispensing
opticians, optometrists, or ophthalmologists.
English onomatopoeic words tick tock does punctuate...
audiological "second" associated with ordinary soundlessness
Second of time not decided arbitrarily, but...
Under International System of Units,
the second currently defined as
duration of 9,192,631,770 periods
of radiation corresponding to transition
between two hyperfine
levels of ground
state of caesium-133
atom at temperature
of 0 degrees Kelvin.
Even if deaf and/or
blind Impossible Mission
to escape incessant
atomic elementary coalition
my dear Watson,
through rigorous erudition
pursuant, predicated,
postulated, plotted, pinpointed...,
whereby basic interval
of time engineered fruition
jarring inquisitiveness regarding
yours truly intuition
one body moving thru space
and time till manumision.
Upon mortality liberation comprising me
molecular constituent parts will thus free
repurposing (reincarnation higglety pigglety)
without preserving jammed consciousness, ye
might beg to differ,
yet that precept re:
guarding retaining awareness
previous life thee
less prominent poetic
intent to squander ably
(slight bias, I aver)
precious minutes agree
gated intuiting the
invisibility of ethereal me:
deem (or quantification
thereof) measuring je
nais sais quois (extent
of French words known
to yours truly), whose
lofty ambition key
ying focus, how
every moment allocated
into base unit to run
of the mill by the floss see
George Eliot (Mary
Ann Evans) garden variety,
generic *****sapien,
(no matter differentiation sets E
shove us apart).
Inescapable maddening
march to maximize
potential choice to exercise
fulfillment, or nurse regret
case in point I surmise
extensive disappointment,
though Matthew Scott tries
to separate the figurative
wheat from the chaff and vies
to distill some semblance
of value, cuz he doth realize,
how tempus fugit defies
longing to go back
to the future as he espies
countless reasons that qualifies
as his life left unlived no surprise
since aforementioned sentiment
mentioned, in tandem with
self destructive behavior I despise.
Sleeping Beauty move over, you got fierce competition
Ain't no vicious rumor,
but dead serious joke
cuz no princess
can kiss bajillion times
to get yours truly woke
ah... just one garden variety generic
Geico Frog Prince
(in actuality I
wanna be caveman bloke)
nothing will disrupt me,
not even minor noose,
so hence go ahead
to get dude duke to choke,
or light a fire under my keister,
nsync with strong arms
issuing lances jabbing poke
but natural gas within me
will endanger nearby folk.
Now listen up,
cuz Zarathustra hath spoke
randomly selected Matthew Scott Harris
sitting prettily athwart
(think Boy George of Culture Club)
on his toadstool,
his (courtesy Zarathustra)
divine inspiration he doth not cloak
couched admonition forewarning
demise kisser will croak
unless he/she qualifies as
bonifide LGBTQ - okey doke
don't say, I did not give fair warning,
while going for broke
courtesy one gay (ping) small/medium
at large frog, usually found soak
king up sunbeams
nonchalantly taking toke
exotic blend comprising
flies, mosquitoes, moths
and damn dragonflies
after they did marinate and soak
within solution mainly egg yolk
to offer greatest smoke.
Oh don't be confused, flummoxed,
nor ill humored regarding mine
married status with tadpoles
totalling ahem... sixty nine
heterosexual biological reproduction
consummated as faux sign
unable to retrofit, reddit, ribbit...
no I honest got a short backbone (spine)
with large hip bone to support
powerful leg muscles taut as pine
yet smooth and glassy as River Seine
out true self before I feign to croak
purportedly rumor heard thru grapevine,
but twitch started by yours truly.
Postscript: my apology,
noah arked intent cited as offender
toward any living creature sexual gender
who might take objection regarding
unfairly labeled, hashtagged,
as duped pretender
cuz thy persona, karma,
charisma... genuinely legally tender.
1000 miles per hour scientists have calculated the Earth’s rotation
And 25000 miles in 24 hours according to their quotation
They say it is the distance from the sun qualifies their concession
But it is the facts that they failed to mention
The fact in the matter is, it is not gravity, the sun or the moon
So I thought I will break it down so you can see the big picture soon
And those scientific theories are fallible and can be popped like a balloon
Then you can stop watching the Discovery channel and watch a Disney cartoon
In order to deliver the facts I will change from monorhyme
This will give you the information in digestible nuggets in time
Here we go:
Fact: we know that love makes the world go round
Just enough to stop you flying off the ground
According to my calculations, there are 380000 people making love every second
Wait a minute, just in case I am beckoned
22800000 in a minute, 1368000000 in an hour and 32832000000 in a day.
That’s a lot of people indulging in naughty play
Therefore each person generates 3045808967 gigawatts of negative energy
Calculate it yourself and if I’m wrong I’ll change my name to Cenergy.
The negative energy is what repels us from the sun
This is not generated from the up and down of underwear of everyone
If we quit the Earth will stop spinning
And this may mean we’ll come out winning
For we won’t die or age in years
We’ll never be made redundant due to someone younger taking our careers
You can borrow money and go in debt
And never pay it off if you take it over a year I guarantee the bet.
For if we stop love, time will stand still
And to get it moving again would need the love pill
So from me and Captain Morgan, we say good night
Tomorrow how the earth got it’s crust we will write.
So say good night to this drunken plumber
And by the way, if we stop the sun will suck us in and that’s a bummer
Good night
Me... creature of comfort? Bah
Once again mine lock, stock
and barrel trade in balderdash
finds yours truly (i.e. me)
to type poem frisson a$$ off
as dentures chatter and gnash,
while still inside me gobstopper,
(the sole way to generate
plea for coveted heat),
which will moost likely
meet chilly reception
whereby ye will predictably
not even bat an eyelash
perchance receive critical backlash
'pon reading what qualifies
as mine trademark mishmash,
yet though just axing you to quash
knee jerk reaction, or
unfairly con sitter me brash
not trying to make waves splash,
cuz yours truly prefers
amenable conflict resolution versus
airing sentiments online,
where differing opinions
spark byte size clash,
diminishing sympathy for
devilish dude with toothless flash,
(who by the way could benefit
courtesy bajillion dollars in cash),
though lavish largesse
much appreciated stash.
Superfluous here within chilly apartment
reasonably rhyming lament,
cuz central heater spews
cool air out vent,
no matter Kevin with son Kyle
(two man maintenance crew)
formerly named recently
replaced small circuit board,
mine genuine acknowledgement
once given, I surmised meant
his professional technical services
would be unnecessary,
until hot steamy summer weather
necessitates well mannered climate
controlled environment,
whereby malfunctioning
central air conditioning,
would find yours truly
donning bare banal civilities
(think emperor and his
new nonexistent/see thru clothes)
as totally tubular tumblr
harmless long haired fervent
pencil necked baby boomer gent
chilling profusely sweaty geek,
(matt her horn fact dashing
apostle impossible mission
not to chuckle testament)
speeding unsightly birthday suit
scaring old fogey folks out their wits,
especially seeing petrified
atrophied balled naughty BitTorrent.
who is a mother?
a million dollar question
that flows through ones heart
and asks questions
not every one who gives birth
qualifies to be a mother
some are not motherly enough
to even rear their kids
some sell their kids
some abandon them...
is that a mothers role?
a rhetorical question
the mother i have
has a role far greater than her title
the privilege i have to share her life
is beyond my comprehension
she is more than a mother
not because she birthed me
because she knows her role
superbly than a cookie recipe
those poor old days
when we manage to even eat rice
and life was difficult
when we needed chicken...
for christmas and new year
and a whole chicken will be cut into half
so we will have a sense of livelihood
i have more than a mother
a mother who groomed us
all in the way of christ
thank God for the bible club of those days
and how she often tells us...
"say the truth and let the devil be ashamed"
when you lie, there are two ballots boxes
lieing makes you vote for the devil
i have more than a mother
a mother who elevates my self esteem
when people step on me
she makes me realize my worth
"i am fearfully and wonderfully made" she says
day by day, she pours into my ear
to keep myself pure
i have more than a mother
thank God for you
being a guardian,mentor and role model
over my existence...
even when we want to derail
she sets us on the right path
reminding us of the gravity of laziness
and how it doesnt pay
i have more than a mother
and i thank God for giving us you
to procreate us...
over five decades ago you were born
and today we celebrate not just your birthday
but the opportunity it has afforded me
to have more than a mother
I say things like "never let some a**hole ruin your day",
But regardless of the facade, people get to me.
I have emotions bottled up inside me decades old,
I spent too long walking around saying to my sad old self
"Nobody will ever know what you felt today."
Sometimes I think I hurt myself,
But when I look at my scars I know I did.
I can recall being told that I should not take razors to my skin because that's what
"Deeply damaged people do".
I'm not sure if I'd say I'm deeply damaged or not, i don't know.
Nobody told me what qualifies as "deep", so it's hard to gage.
I'd say I'm carrying around a pretty significant package of pain.
Things were hard then and they are now too,
We all went through it, you were there, you know.
It was hard.
We watched our mother diminish to a breathing skeleton and we watched our father break.
His wife was dying - he was trying - some were lying - regardless of evidence some weren't buying - I was crying.
Cmon.
It was tough and we delt how we could.
Yes, it still hurts today.
I think it always will.
Some of us left too soon and some of us are far too blue.
I'm sure if we can forgive eachother we can get better.
I don't know what I'm talking about -
Maybe we'll never get better.
How the fcuk are we supposed to know if we don't try?
I want to feel good guys,
We were good.
I need you all.
You aren't "just the past" and I wish i never had thought like that.
Maybe we are now, because I'm not sure we can mend this.
I don't know. I want you guys to come home though.
I miss you all.
I love you, and I never stopped.
The love is real. It exists here with us.
Don't hold back when love exists.
Don't hold back - just come back.
~a sad, incoherent poem written by a sad tipsy poet with family problems
Just One Last Night – The Last Goodbye - A Musical Mini-Movie Duet
Sometimes, love lingers long after the last goodbye. We think we’re letting go—but in truth, we’re holding on.
Not just to memories, but to the soul that once stayed beside us.
The Ballad and mini-movie is about love and loss, about the quiet ache that never quite fades.
It asks:
Can love become a tether?
When all it ever wanted was to be free?
“Just One Last Night” explores that space between presence and release—
Where devotion becomes a quiet chain, and one heart’s longing might keep another from crossing into the light.
Note: The poem below qualifies the Lyrics of the Ballad in the movie which are not included here so as not to give away the story.
Click on CC on the video itself to follow the song lyrics.
Tip: best listened to with headphones.
A flame in the dark I lit
blind to the shadow it cast
Love, a thread spun of moonlight,
I thought forever would last
I built a shrine from memories
not caring I’d sealed his soul.
Lingering on ~ his reluctant spirit
Between enduring torn.
The path ahead for me was dim
The fault all mine – he couldn’t soar
Reluctantly, with laboured breath,
I released and let my true love go
I lost his Soul with poignant grace
With soulful sorrow upon my face.
I invite you to click on and watch my video now to appreciate the impact of this poem.
If the video and lyrics touches you in any way please share on your social media or to friends, It could give solace to or bring just one person from that deep dark place and the production has done it's job. Thank you. Hugs xoxoxo