Long Rate Poems
Long Rate Poems. Below are the most popular long Rate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rate poems by poem length and keyword.
Surprise! The power of journaling,
To keep your goals aligned and life fulfilling.
Our creator knows us inside out,
And in our prayers, we can find the route.
Quiet time with the Lord, pen and paper in hand,
Jot down the thoughts and goals, make a stand.
Observe the percentage, how prayers are answered,
God's faithfulness shown, as life's path is traversed.
Journaling holds us accountable,
To live to the vision, it's truly reliable.
Over years, the success rate is high,
Best practices learned, never to die.
Surprise! The power of journaling,
A tool for life, big goals and small things.
I've been to dark places
I've lost myself and all the basics
I've crawled on my hands and knees
Fighting to stand up again
Gritting my teeth
Tears down my face
I will never be the same
No one will be in my way
I've backed down from battle
I've fought for love and lost it all
I've hiked the muddiest mountains
Proving the strength my body has
Restless heart rate
Mind set strong
I will never be the same
No one will be in my way
I've had my heart torn out and given away
I've hurt myself thinking No one would care
I've reserved my head, heart, and body
Believing other the only way to heal
Silent noise in my head
Cardiac thunder through my chest
I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME
AND NO ONE WILL STAND IN MY WAY
I am enough!
THE CERTAINTY?
Every Sunday at 10.35, whatever the season,
The elderly couple from down the road walk by on their way to Matins.
It used to be 10.45 in their prime but, as age creeps on, it takes more time to get there.
He still wears a suit with collar and tie, whatever the season.
She still wears a hat, complete with hat pin, whatever the reason. Well, her generation did,
Convinced no doubt of eternal damnation for bareheaded women.
So here they are on their way to their Church -C of E, medium high,
Where the service is just as it’s always been. No guitars or modern beat, no gimmicks from the pulpit.
Just Hymns Ancient and Modern and Psalm eighty-four; and later the Vicar shakes hands at the door as they leave.
They’ve prayed to their loving and merciful God; and I’d like to ask them,
“Is this the same loving and merciful God who let children die in that earthquake last week?
And who sends no rain to an African state so that more children die at a terrible rate in the sun?”
But, of course, I wouldn’t challenge their faith. Just think how I’d feel if they were convinced
And I’d taken away their strength that saw them through life.
But they would simply smile indulgently at one naive enough to question what enlightened folk have known two thousand years.
“It’s all in the Good Book,” they’d say and quote a verse or two that proves to them that everything in that same book is true.
And now, at 12.25, whatever the season, the elderly couple from down the road return to their Sunday lunch.
To the warm smell of the slowly cooking joint and the scolding yap of the poodle who doesn’t see the point
of Matins.
They’ll carry on in the simple certainty of their faith,
And leave me to ponder my uncertainty.
November 2018
No, it does not mean you are a good person.
Used mostly by totalitarian or Marxist regimes.
As they hide behind a nation’s iron curtains.
To forward their diabolical. illegal schemes.
Definition
Virtue signaling is the “popular “ modern habit of
indicating that one has virtue….merely by expressing
disgust or favor for certain political ideas or cultural
happenings.”
So when the government demands a mandate
People follow saying,“ see I am a good person!”
It has nothing to do with how you as a human rate,
Virtue is based on your goodness..precious mate.
6/6/2033
A dedication to Eileen Ghali
for her prolific production of
inspiring work
Willow Tree = Keyboard
And that’s your only clue
Hurricane Eileen - The Storm
As darkness drew nearer
Light falling to drearer
I knew, the night was a foul
The windows were slashed
By her white lightening blast
Down the chimney old windy did howl
By her orchestrates
He rattles the grates
Appears round each gap in the door
Then in comes her rain
Through cracked window pain
As I witness her latest downpour
How the storm fascinates
With the show she creates
And I sit here and watch her for free
Down on the plain
Taking the strain
She batters the gnarled willow tree
Great thunder clouds form
In the head of the storm
And magic arrives in her sky
Come rivers of rain
With nowhere to drain
The water, a flood, rises high
Then happens a lull
To recharge to the full
Takes time out to contemplate
To be cruel or be kind
She rampages her mind
And comes back, at double the rate
With a boom and a crack
Bursts silver from black
A crescendo of noise fills the ear
And the gnarled willow tree
Writhes in ecstasy
By the pulse of her wild atmosphere
Mixed shadows are cast
By her white lightening blast
Her soul, for a while, exposed
For a moment in time
All is in rhyme
Till her story she chooses to close
As her elements soar
They’re at large with a roar
For hours they’ll dance and they’ll play
Blows the hurricane
Driving her reign
Till had, fulfilment of stay
With her forces unleashed
Her passions released
The storm passes over to light
Once more she has shown
By the tantrum she’s sown
Her strength… her power… her MIGHT.
Form:
In the markets, a wounded dollar sighs,
IEA cuts oil demand, to no surprise.
Stocks stride to records, touching the sky,
With eyes on CPI, the reason why.
The Japanese yen, in decline it stays,
Interest rate differentials pave the ways.
The Fed needs low inflation signs, they wait,
For CPI results to decide their fate.
Bitcoin speculation, 2.8 million hold tight,
In the worst performing price cycle’s plight.
European banks set to cut rates soon,
EUR/USD climbs, a one-month boon.
China’s probe into EU trade barriers thickens,
As June CPI trends downward, rate cut quickens.
Pepsi earnings watched, stocks tread still,
Investors brace for inflation’s will.
JP Morgan upgrades Malaysia’s grade,
Policy reforms and progress made.
CPI data lower than we thought,
Markets soar, in gains they’re caught.
WTI oil shows bearish trends,
Investors shun junk bonds, as bankruptcy ascends.
South Korea fears Trump’s second round,
JP Morgan expects Fed cuts abound.
Market’s bullish momentum extends,
US inflation cools, rate cut trends.
Will China’s bank boost its economy’s fire?
June CPI’s cut path higher.
Wall Street climbs on inflation’s ease,
Yet big tech slumps, investors seize.
Trump’s win could Bitcoin’s value inflame,
JPY’s intervention remains the same.
China’s exports rise, imports fall,
BoJ intervenes, inflation stalls.
ECB slow on cuts, poll shows,
Commodities rise, US CPI glow.
Pound sterling rises, gold retreats,
Higher bond yields, USD beats.
Yen’s rally pauses, intervention denied,
Turkey’s back, emerging market’s pride.
7/12/22
Still traveling through space
It's not falling into place
Tripped over my shoelace
Wound up with a bruised face
I'm starting to lose faith
People staying missing or found in a suitcase
Now we got another new case
Across more than a few states
Has there been enough progress in attempts to reduce waste?
Playing hard to get, but I'm not into a wild goose chase
Is the dam soon to break?
I can't let it
Regardless if it all starts to go left quick
In a world that can be so hectic
Many turn frenetic
Looking for an exit
It's not a game, you can't just select 'quit'
Another drink another pen rip
Eff it
They can sit there and be skeptics
They'll be full of like a sceptic
They try to fight it never willing to accept it
They're still doing things that are pathetic
One thing they won't be is apologetic
I'll get it done by being athletic
As well as energetic
If need be in order for the outcome to be electric
Nearby buildings made of red brick
This is very far from by best pitch
Back in time over that they'd lose their head quick
Half the fruit is good the other half is a rotten apple
I swear half the world has gotten fragile
On others people often tattle
It's become a constant hassle
Meanwhile I'm still caught in battles
With drugs and alcohol it's a problem unhandled
At this rate, how can I ever rise above being mere 'common rabble'
If I remain locked and shackled
We were armed at fourteen with BB guns
and reckless abandon.
So started many of our cousinly adventures.
Central Utah has hot, hot summers
and little else going for it.
We took to the sage in shorts and t-shirts
begging the tics to climb aboard.
Lyme disease?
For suckers by suckers.
By and large our hikes were aimless.
We’d shoot lizards if we could…
or any glass objects that were lying around
if we couldn’t.
A fire was needed
in the desert heat
in the middle of the day
because we had a string of fire crackers
and a shortage of common sense.
There was an abundance of combustibles
and we chose the dried up cow pies…
less poop for the dog to eat.
We stacked a few into a pile
then lit it up.
They were Black Cats…
or possibly Lady Fingers.
In either case, they were lame
one at a time.
So we threw them all in at once.
Did you know burning cow manure
and fire crackers
make babies?
Flying, fiery babies of death
with an insatiable appetite
for combustibles.
Neither did we.
We stomped their nest.
Tried to bury it.
We weren’t dummies,
(I know what you’re thinking)
we had built close to water.
So we tried some mud.
Still the babies hatched.
So violently
so noisily
so fire-erly
that we decided it was time to run.
If the world was going up in flames…
we weren’t sticking around.
Armed with BB guns,
we were desert deserters.
We didn’t get far before
the hatching ended.
It turns out
flying, fiery babies of death
have a very high mortality rate
or a very short life span.
We knew it all along…
hell spawn can’t survive here
even in the desert
it’s too cold.
To this very day,
I thank the heavens
that we were only fourteen
and hadn’t had enough money
for more than one string of Black Cats…
or possibly Lady Fingers.
05/08/15
*true story, and I'm happy to still be around to tell it, haha.
Susie’s cheeks glowed, her face burning with desire
She began licking her ruby red lips with expectation
So sure tonight was going to be THE night
Susie had waited so so long for this moment …
She was certain she wasn’t going to be disappointed
When she saw me her pupils dilated
She was feeling hot, so damned hot
Beads of sweat began to form on her brow
Her long dark hair stuck to her forehead
She brushed it away with a flick of her hand
Her pulse rate quickened
She reached out and held me in her hand
Her probing fingers examining every inch
She opened her mouth
Pearly white teeth gripped and she bit so hard
YES! YES! YES! YES! Her fiancé screamed,
He knew how much this moment meant to her ….
After five years Susie had finally won the National Chili eating contest!
Contest – How hot was it! – John Lawless
07~23~15
Pause a brief moment, stop and think,
now go back in time, back to a time
before cars came along,
back to when you just had radio.
An age when one knew their neighbour
and travel was only as necessary.
The village bobby always knew where to look
and crime was just off the petty kind.
A time without the telly (quite amusing)
when families truly communicated.
No films or programmes putting ideas into heads
increasing the crime rate of much more terrible crimes.
Newspapers telling us what they think we want to hear
intruding into people's private space then,
showing their own distorted view of who we are.
Bringing to our attention all that is happening.
Now we come to the Crux, the heart of things
without these advances, some so miraculous
would we be better off without them?
I leave you, my reader to decide.