Long Relates Poems
Long Relates Poems. Below are the most popular long Relates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relates poems by poem length and keyword.
You don’t have to say I love you for someone to know
You think someone means it just cause they say it, no
I’ve tried all my life to find out what love means
I thought it was easy, but trust me, it’s a lot harder than it seems
God gave me the gift, he gave me the ability to write
But that’s hard to do when you’ve lost your sight
I’m not talking about my literal eyes
I lost the ability to see a future without my demise
I see a broken man, with one too many bandages
When you pray for strength, God will give you challenges
You have to overcome them in order to become strong
I thought I had strength, but it turns out I was weak all along
I’m nothing without you Lord, and that’s what really scares me
I sacrifice myself for others all the time, cause it’s my own worth that I can’t see
It’s easy to pretend to be something you’ll never be
When I look back at it now, it’s actually pretty funny
I look in the mirror and laugh at myself
Did I think they would remember me as a friend or as something else
Maybe a hero, someone admirable
But then I realize that word is unfathomable
Cause you can never give what you don’t have
Maybe that’s why no one around me can find happiness or a reason to laugh
I’ve been searching for a reason to even exist
I hope someone relates to the heart I put in this
Been alone my whole life, but not by choice
God’s the only one that’s ever heard my true voice
My fiancée left me for a person I called friend
If my life were a book, after that, it’d say The End
Or maybe not cause I’m still here
But if I ever saw her again, I’d say dear
Thank you for teaching me that all I ever wanted was to feel wanted
At first, when I thought of you, I was only haunted
By the thought of never being good enough
3 years together and you broke up with me over Facebook, man that’s tough
But now I can look back and smile cause we just weren’t right for each other
You’re the reason I value the relationships I have more, why I can call someone my brother
So thank you again, cause you taught me how precious it is to find something genuine
Cause that’s what lasts forever, and if it’s fake well forget it then
I don’t have time or room in my life for fake
I need to be more like you God every moment that I wake
You just read a page from my diary
But don’t think with that, you can ever define me
(Gen. 1: 1, 14 / * Isa. 26: 4 / Isa. 43: 10 , Isa. 44: 6 , Isa. 45: 5-7, 17, Isa. 46: 9-11 /
* Acts 1: 7 / * Eccl. 3: 1-8, 11 / Mark 13: 30-33 / 1 Tim. 1: 17 / Jude 25 / Rev. 21 :6)
The King Of Eternity Gave Me Laser Answers
So That I Would Know of All Matters
That It's All Only A Matter of Time
Yes, All Things Are Set In Time's Prime
Yes, It's All Only A Matter of Time's Size
It All Comes In The Frame As Time Supplies
The Past, The Present & The Future All Relates
It All Devolves Upon The Time That It Takes To Make:
Once Upon A Time:
One Drop of Water Pierced A Stone-Face Into A Smile
One Step Then Another Paced A Walk, A Million Miles
One Speck of Dust Then Another Made Earth's Mosaic-Tiles
... of Pebbles Into Boulders Until The Many Mountains Piled
& A Child Grew From An Embryo, As One Cell Multiplied
All In A Matter of Time's Length & Scope & Steady Strides
Once Upon A Time:
One Thread Joined Another Until Its Sewn Into A Fashion Style
& Years Reached The Hour's Stroke That Heralded End of Trials
Each Separate Instant As It Happened - Produced History's Files
See - Its All Only A Matter of Time, All The While
There Is A Time For Every Matter & A Time For Every Thing
It's All Only A Matter of Time's Space, Track & Sync
So It's Only A Matter of Minutes In The Continuum of Time
'Til We'll Meet The Moment - All Is Divine
Whether Its A Hard Conclusion or An Easy Climb
Whether Infinity Is Curved or In A Strict, Straight Line
Whether We Fail To Find Our Own Finally Arrived Sign
Or The Start & A Stop & In The Middle That Binds
Its All Only In A Matter of Time ...
Whether That's To Catch Ocean Waves or A Winds Cadence
Or To Fly Thru Galaxies By The Speed of Light's Radiance
Time Is Ever Moving Forward & Spreading In The Distance
Time Has No Break & Man Can't Hold Time With Resistance
Time Is A Touchstone, That A Traveler Uses As A Chart
Minutes Are Modes of Transport, In Time's Non-Stop March
A Moment Is Only A Motion, of Emotional Import
Yet Whether Its Digital or Analog or Of A Sundial Sort
We Can Touch Time - From Our Own Back-Porch
Time of Itself Is An Interval ... & Time Is A Track
One Can't Rewind Actions & Time Won't Run Back
(Unless of Course GOD Himself Designates That Act)
But Time Is Organized & A Tamper-Proof-Fact
(Part 1 of 3)
Written & Copyrighted © : 9/9/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
If my poetry moves you to witness to stranger
Just know that I'm touched that you're "sharing my ride,"
For the fact is that giving can be fraught with danger,
But those that it calls feel much warmer inside!
I have so little knowledge to call my invention
Some came from my parents, from people I've met
But the gift of the spirit defies all convention
It's holy, profound, precious gift without debt.
Even muse I call gift, for it waters my soul's growth,
An alternate path that the spirit can take
Truth that's flavored by strangers, by loved ones, I've seen both,
Fresh air never sweeter, Grace purges mistake!
Spirit truth has no owner like jewel or gold dust,
It's one with Creation; you'll know it by feel.
Although Midas (1) got gold, all his love turned to soul rust,
The gift of the Spirit is simply to heal!
Brian Johnston
June 13, 2017
Poet's Notes:
(1) From Greek mythology - Wikipedia
"One day, as Ovid relates in Metamorphoses, Dionysus found that his old schoolmaster and foster father, the satyr Silenus, was missing. The old satyr had been drinking wine and wandered away drunk, to be found by some Phrygian peasants who carried him to their king, Midas (alternatively, Silenus passed out in Midas' rose garden). Midas recognized him and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with politeness, while Silenus delighted Midas and his friends with stories and songs. On the eleventh day, he brought Silenus back to Dionysus in Lydia. Dionysus offered Midas his choice of whatever reward he wished. Midas asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold.
Midas rejoiced in his new power, which he hastened to put to the test. He touched an oak twig and also a stone; both turned to gold. Overjoyed, as soon as he got home, he touched every rose in the rose garden, and all became gold. He ordered the servants to set a feast on the table. Upon discovering how even the food and drink turned into gold in his hands, he regretted his wish and cursed it. Claudian states in his In Rufinem: "So Midas, king of Lydia, swelled at first with pride when he found he could transform everything he touched to gold; but when he beheld his food grow rigid, and his drink harden into golden ice then he understood that this gift was a bane and in his loathing for gold, cursed his prayer."
for Prithwin
first
left downstroke
start from the top
plane out
let the long anchor tip roof-line curve sharply upwards
at the stern down-end
pile it in stuffed in the centre
leave the bottom open
that’s where the studded boot rightly fits
Over billowing transmuted waters
the haze lifts now and then
winds amber green waft and skim
with the late light caught shimmering
no albatross circles the mast
guilt is pure guilt without wanton arrows
there are no signs of land
but the proffered hand
the wanderer knows no words of his own
Reach - disgorge with your nails
Walls that concuss entrails
Can he yet placate asylum
echo the cluck of a poaching North American coot
nestling amidst Eurasian breeding reeds
taut bunching yarrow rushes
an embattled haven
against majestic swan ships
sleek velvety rich drake
peacockish barnacle goose
come in early from the cold
Let the dards of Orion spell syllables of ease
through the congested smudge of yore
contorted fantizi ideograms
cursory calligraphic long dripping brush strokes
pale to pinyin
Simplified
the exile gasps for instant phonemic breath
under choppy waves of stuttering tongues
racy blades
extirpate langue crucify parole
mix meaning into heady synaesthesiac brew
loss of face is a loss of noodles
develop equals hair
Could René Char’s Zeit Geist
have diagnosed the myna’s Kâla-Purusha
Reach – disgorge with your nails
Walls that concuss entrails
Resources
1. This poem has to do with a Bengali translator’s first encounter with René Char at his residence The French poet questioned his translator on the meaning of “le dard d’Orion” in
his poem: “Jeu muet”. The translator interpreted the phrase as having to do with
astronomy and thus rendered it as “kâla Purusha” (Zeit Geist or literally as in
Hindu mythology: the Primal Being at the beginning of time). René Char then
picked a certain variety of the cactus flower in his garden and said that the
French “phrase” applied to that particular flower.
2. The imagery in the poem also relates to the simplification of classical Chinese
characters (fantizi) by the Peoples Republic of China in the early fifties and the
alphabetisation of Chinese characters, known as “pinyin” as opposed to the Wade and Yale systems. The simplified characters produced certain semantic anomalies.
©T. Wignesan, Paris – May 3, 2009
I wonder why some people get offended because you believe differently than they do? I am very happy to give others the latitude to cherish their beliefs and worship (or not) in the manner they see fit, in fact I support it, no matter WHAT it entails, (as long as it doesn't hurt others) ...
But please give ME the same space and consideration, and do not assume to tell me I'm wrong because I feel differently than you do, and try to not look down on or condemn me and others just because you believe that your beliefs are the "correct" or righteous ones ...
It's not our differences that cause all the problems in this world, it's the lack of mutual respect, empathy, and understanding that we give to those around us. Our inability to let others believe the way THEY choose to, is what cultivates hatred, animosity and bias in this world ...
I personally know people who are quite adamant about the fact that they have found the "truth" and the right path, who claim to put forth love and kindness and understanding, yet if your views don't fall in line with theirs, then surely there must be something wrong with you ...
Faith is a very important part of religion, and I completely understand its crucial import and weight, and how it directly relates to worship and spirituality, but NO ONE knows for sure what this whole voyage "life" is about, and no one ever will, until we each pass FROM it ...
So, you may not agree with my beliefs, they may not remotely resemble what yours are, but please make NO mistake, they are just as PRECIOUS to me as yours are to YOU, whether or not half the world feels the same way, or NOBODY does - whether or not they conform to anyone else ...
I tend to believe that until we allow others the latitude and mutual RESPECT to believe whatever they choose to, and even defend that right, differences will only serve to separate us, and cultivate resentment, anger, and hatred, instead of being embraced the way they SHOULD be ...
Love is LOVE, there are NO qualifications ... compassion, empathy and understanding are important parts of what that word encompasses, yet I think we often see love as one dimensional, and reserved for those we feel amorously about, but it also relates to our fellow man ....
OK, my rant is over, and my soap box shall go back into the closet now.
I am the environmentalist in love with wine,
my shoulders carry and reside in the cutting edge side of life,
the establishment craves to be the human race
while I stroll the memories of “Sailor fields”
amongst ancient Jurassic stone.
Is this! The only way for me?
My saline tears run freely now a days,
it’s time that governs one’s sentiment,
no doubt the plague of waiting relates to this.
What! Of the future,
hey , i want to forget about futuristic wars,
may be the media are in gross error of judgment?
I’m told I’m only a little man, at last now I know why I’m the
one that society chastises every day,
Why this mortal flame in constant combat becomes
life’s tomb stone around my neck.
To feel freedom, another swig so my lacklustre eyes again become stimulated
as the view overcomes my immobility and bids farewell, to the great lady
that glides portly on the outgoing tide.
Curse this elemental wind
that curls in from the east,
“Mother” i cry
“Is this the clarity of our beginning.” the start of all this crap,
as astringent thoughts flow through my urban bucolic mind,
seeing or feeling nothing of the moment, only a repeat of the actions of many insensitive men,
those that flourish, those that sentiment cannot stain those that walk tallest amongst men;
because they were hungry for appurtenance.
I remember well , in the far off lea of my mind,
down on the farm thousands of miles away across the Pacific,
where enamel clashed against concrete
there , where foolhardy dreams were dashed,.
when the heart pursued
the warm flesh , she that gave her
reflection to the swan song
of an innocence.
Alas should one be compelled to expire
as one would, a chardonnay basking in the hot sunshine?
Should one fall foul of a politically correct society
that , outside of one’s comfort zone,
because one feels , want , in choleric veins?
Even the sullen white cross, dotted upon the highways
become burning embers, a constant reminiscence,
an emotional monument to many inhibited memories.
Yet I beg this deportment shows me a realization,
that death is imminent,
so why this perpetual waiting, this constant urge,
for this vein dependency to be infringed upon ???
© Harry J Horsman 2012
It was the time when art was king,
Of artists whose praises we all sing.
Great minds there were in the Renaissance,
Through eons , unsurpassed, with little advance.
Greatness was embodied in the works of art,
In Lorenzo's gardens did Michelangelo start.
But great there was one of Mona Lisa fame,
Master painter, inventor - Leonardo his name.
Contemporaries for sure, one really wonders
Of the two, whose work steals the thunders.
David, the Pieta, Sistine Chapel, and more
Everlasting they are through ages sure.
But then there's the Lisa, Last Supper, inventions galore.
On their ingenuity and genius, the world lays great store.
Can genius be bestowed in multiple men?
Can peace and tranquility be shared even then?
Can two kings sit and reign on one throne?
Or squabble and fight like two dogs with one bone?
And so, these men of unparallel fame
Were set by chance a mischievous game.
Asked they were to adorn the Council Hall
With paintings to settle rankings once and for all.
With gusto did the two set about
A Battle each to prove their clout.
Leonardo chose the battle of Anghiari;
Battle of Cascina was Michelangelo's quarry.
Great was the strife between the two,
Each strove hard for the other to outdo.
Of the rivalry ,I heard, - the worst of all,
Art was the victim - and the two took a fall.
Relates the great chronicler Vasari,Giorgio,
That the nadir of art was seen in the Palazzo Vecchio
As each of the greats thought little of their craft
But dallied and diddled, till the populace all laughed.
The Cascina on naked bathing soldiers was based
On the banks of the Arno it was placed.
But the scene that was rendered was so ludicrous
That his work, sadly, bordered on the ridiculous.
Leonardo's Anghiari was a shade grim
But his chances to greatness was very slim.
He used oils from Pliny the Elder's recipe
But soon these flaked , were smudgy, and drippy.
Be that as it may
To Art's great dismay
What should have been great works
Were diminished by Rivalry's quirks.
Vasari painted over these objets de art
And replaced these with his own from the start.
Now conservators do scan, to see if they can,
Which of the two, Leonardo or Michelangelo, was
The painter of the elusive Magnum Opus.
~18 Jun 2016~
In the book of John it relates the history
of Jesus' mission of Christian mercy
when Jesus encounters a Samaritan woman near a drinking well
it was a meeting between two nations whose relationship was one of hell
the Jews and the Samaritans did not get along
each felt the other's method of worship was inherently wrong
separated by paganistic practices and supposed sins
discrimination and name calling again, again and again
yet it doesn't seem that much different than today's society
where different ethnic groups display the same hate and hostility
but Jesus interjected Himself, He came to intervene
on a mission of mercy and tolerance never before seen
to bring abundant love and life to a world cloaked in misery
and give living water to quench the drought that has parched humanity
to step from behind the stained glass windows of the churches and synagogues
and into the hearts and minds of men and spread the goodness that is God
John touched on a theme that's occurred several times in the Scriptures
when a man of God meets a woman and a spiritual wedding can be pictured
on a mission of mercy to cross that Great Divide
to bring people together on the same spiritual side
Jesus told that Samaritan woman He knew of her past
about the five husbands that she had outlast
but whether she was divorced or widowed from them
it's not mentioned in the text so don't assume any sin
but Jesus saw beyond that and looked into her heart
He treated her with respect and held her in regard
she knew He was a prophet by His very words
she told Him of the things about Jews she had heard
Jesus the Christ then went into His missionary mode
He said in order to worship God you don't need any certain code
as there is no specific time nor any special place
for one to worship the God of righteousness, truth and grace
a mission of mercy is what Jesus came to convey
He even revealed to her who He really was that day
mankind has a problem looking pass the surface and into the heart
we can't seem to get the message that we're all equal in the eyes of God
we come with our bigotry, prejudice and hate
we can't even agree on the issue of faith
but Jesus the Christ gave us a lasting legacy
to love one another and to live life as a mission of mercy
Every now and then I am asked to write a poem…an honor for which I feel blessed…
but yesterday, in all honesty, I received a very strange request.
I recently wrote a poem on how basic math relates to life…which must have left one reader in awe…because he asked me if I could do the same with…wait for it…Algebra.
Apparently he has grandchildren who need a little persuasion…as to why they need to study symbols and equations.
First of all…Algebra can be funny…it’s not all boring numbers, symbols and graphs…Here’s a joke that to this day…makes algebraic mathematicians laugh:
To answer the who, what, where and when in life other mathematical processes apply…but Algebra is the only one where you can find an answer for Y.
I know studying letters and symbols can be a source of agitation…but did you know we use Algebra every time we make a calculation?
As a child when you saw a toy across the room or even those candles on the birthday cake you were blowing…you were calculating distances, using Algebra…yes, without even knowing!
In sports any time you throw or catch or kick a ball…or when you’re older…determining the spread…all these moments you are instinctively doing Algebra in your head.
At thanksgiving as you cook your turkey…Algebra is there to please…it helps you calculate how long it takes to cook a 20 pound turkey…at 350 degrees.
Without algebra we wouldn’t have TV, or video games and over us a decision would loom…when we’re redecorating and trying to determine the area of a room.
Or how much grass we need to landscape our lawn…and we’d be considered a fool…if our calculations were incorrect and our back yard was too small for our pool.
Algebra helps us determine a healthy diet…more vegetables…less fries…
and given our height, weight and body mass…the best form of exercise.
It’s true we have Google, Alexa and Siri now…all products of Algebraic conception…but what are you going to do when the electricity goes out…and you no longer have reception?
So please go to Algebra class…do your best…you don’t have to be a whiz kid…
Because when you’re older looking at that 20 pound turkey…and Alexa has no answer…You’ll be glad you did.
I seem to of late to live between an inner life of double doubt and life aberrant that relates to a coincintude that female hate is alive and well, as it subjigates its tentacles around its prey prematured by all of their sociofear/control/princecharmang/sleepingbeauty differentials as we males are to often sex sublimated too ass pire in a web woven gonadally predisposed of a clitorial condensed conondrum where, witch makes us male dicks; stand at attention. Why? We low level ourselves to that polyconstraint of a social wherewithall based on antiquated annograms distanced in a heretofore complacency time stamped, virgin approved and male personified, so all is within the bounds of an ever invert political plan to forever White House the sexo salient roles rigid sex separate sandbox sequentials unto its law abiding gift never knowing that its equal can easily subdivde its erpart with no mistakes and pass the the male test of the 7 year itch, 50's, 60's, 70's, and all years forward now proven to be intercourseal inclined. Is there a male/female be-yond that can superimpose a gonaldal garnered grievance giving of a temporal truce to the dick-dastardly detentions undeniably underpinning from both sides of a soursexual salad; lessthanvowdictatedmonitoredbyoursideconstitutientsoncall, where's a Dicktective when u need a hard one? Take a step back asexual tea party dummies times 2 before u launch yr to proud torid torpedo torrent, bequeathing any/all of the above and any of
your ever wanting crotch potentials, throw a ringer, sign on the dotted line. Recomscope the fervor of yr "privates" dilemma as it harkens to the past primeveal of America and its prison like standards as to all that relate/copulate themselves to a socioprevelantsexualmaritaldivorcecomandnomcompliantsocioplus
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panorama that refer to your endless being as it to you as a genuine Human!! Skip the personnaplanetary politicorhetoic in which we need to believe so we can catagorize ourselves from those different than our cowardice selves. Welcome to the new American Administration of thought gun police??????????????? Non brain cell participants need reply. Your destiny is ass ured.