Long Relationships Poems
Long Relationships Poems. Below are the most popular long Relationships by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relationships poems by poem length and keyword.
There has just been a new addition to the Self Family,
Which calls for all family members to undergo Self-Assessment,
The new member of the family has been named Self Isolation.
The welfare of family will depend on,
How well they respond to the demands of Self Isolation,
And that they remain Selfless until Self Isolation no longer,
Requires them to stay by his side,
And not wander off with Selfishness,
Or give into the demands of Self-loathing, Self-Harm or Self-doubt.
They should refrain from being tempted out of their bubble by the Selfies,
And other deadbeats who could undermine future relationships,
With Self Worth.
If Self Isolation becomes too hard to handle,
Self-Respect, Self-Image, Self-Control, Self-Belief and Self Help,
Can be contacted online or by phone,
So, they can look at themselves in the mirror without Self Regret.
Are all the successful people in the world
Content and happy with their lives
Is a mansion on a hilltop with scads of dough
The only thing we need to survive
Nay nay good people, we need interaction
With others to inspire great things
The loving relationships of family and friends
Without them, we feel loneliness sting
Floundering at sea like a rudderless ship
Being tossed to and fro by life's trials
It's really quite normal to crave some attention
We need human contact for survival
Why must we always keep up with the Jones'
Why not appreciate what we've got
Lucky to be alive on this luscious green earth
Taking care of our own little plot
Certainly no expert but I do know how things
Can affect each one of our lives
So always think positive wherever you go
Even giving strangers high fives
The shock and great joy on all of their faces
Is worth the small effort it takes
To share your enthusiasm and true lust for life
Till you arrive at those Pearly Gates!
© Jack Ellison 2013
tip: don’t get sand in your lip gloss
Talking about relationships
I find it irritating when, after three hours of
sweaty club-dancing I ask my boyfriend,
“Want to get a sweet treat?” and he says “no.”
“Come on,” I whined.
I slumped, snorted and stamped my foot like a horse.
but he sat, cow-like, unmooved.
“I’m 22” I declared, lifting my chin in challenge,
“You can’t tell me ‘no.’ NO ONE can tell me no -
sweets are street-legal.”
While I was getting whipped up,
he’d started looking at his phone.
So I ordered ice cream, two scoops,
- one banana pie, and one mango-nut.
with whipped cream, nuts, strawberry bits
chocolate-sprinkles and three cherries.
He practically ate it all.
Let me say it poetically..
I was vexed near complaint
his filching was open
but with his sugared kiss, my wrath did melt,
cured, as was, by that warm piece of service
proving, all haps, love is still the sweetest thing.
.
.
Songs for this:
In These Shoes? by Kirsty MacColl
Meet You At the Moon by Imelda May
I often ask MYSELF,
What if I wasn't LEFT?
"Would I have been deceived if I wasn't ALONE?"
Of course, I will never know, but yet I wonder ON.
The greatest BLESSING was a very valuable LESSON about communication
in relationships. It's vital to consult with your spouse
when faced with situations and matters which one is not
used to EXPERIENCING. My life had started out so rich and
FULFILLING. But I met someone I never knew with whom I was
dealing. I ask myself, "Why was I so WILLING?" I had a husband
and everything a person could WANT, with foods tastier than
those in the finest RESTAURANT. I'm sure that our Father God was
filled with good plans for us, but I allowed a stranger to step
in and cause me to forget or ignore what God had said to my husband
and me. In retrospect, I should have at least asked for my husband's
opinion or ignored the stranger altogether. The stranger twisted God's
words just enough to deceive me. I'm not BLAMING my husband for
not STEPPING in to shut the mouth of the stranger, nor am I saying that
I needed a knight in SHINNING armor, but I have always wondered about
my interaction with the stranger, and the manner in which I APPROACHED
my husband left us with so little HOPE. I believed the stranger, and my
husband believed me. In one of if not the greatest dialogues in human
history, God's command was left out of the entire equation. I and my husband suffered the consequences, not of ignorance, but of our disobedience to God.
Whether I whisper or shout, no one listens, for my words and cries fall in vain.
Like a dried leaf from a tree, no one cares if it lands at the bottom of the sea.
Everyone reacts to the smile, but no one sees through the agony, hurt and pain.
Slowly, slowly, I’m drifting to a place called Insanity, where everyone seems to roam free.
My mind is in such a state that it is straying far, far away from reality.
On a fine Summer’s day, sitting on a bench in the park, I was watching some children play.
I closed my eyes and saw those carefree, happy, full-of-laughter childhood days of pure normality.
Remembering siblings, friends and relatives all together, all so happy, carefree and busy chatting away.
Happy memories to remember.
But now “Time “ is always there interfering, and there are no more such get-togethers.
In our chaotic world, no one has
“Time “ to spare, all busy toing and froing, fighting their fight for survival.
Friendships and relationships get sacrificed, with some becoming either a foe or a rival.
It's strange how it doesn’t seem to matter, and no one seems bothered.
Hey, what the! I felt something tugging at my coat.
I slowly opened my eyes and saw a little girl. It looked like she was crying, she said, “I am lost”.
I took her little hand, smiled and replied, “ Me too. It looks like we’re in the same boat”.
In the land of the living, everything changes except birth, death, and time. They remain the same.
On this journey of life, sooner or later and at some point, “Time” continues to smile and watch each player as, one by one, we somehow drive ourselves insane.
Time is the only winner in this game.
by Zyrool
Kylie had a diving accident,
In her friend’s swimming pool,
In which she broke her neck,
And so was sped to hospital.
Tragically, all the doctors, staff,
Thought she was really drunk,
Because she still had movement,
In her left leg, toes - not sunk.
So she hoped in therapy rehab,
To walk again and ably function,
Because she new procedures,
From her stables’ education.
She told and told the nurses,
Don’t move me, don’t move me!
But with insults they inquired,
If she was also on drugs illegally.
Then they dropped her! She fell,
Passed out to be hoisted up,
Onto the bench again, no brace,
And she knew she’d not get up.
However, she says she told,
a physio, “I had no negative,
feelings about having a spinal
injury. I wanted to [be positive
and] look to the future and find
out what I could do. Hand on
heart, I never felt ‘Why me?’”
I never reflected [ever upon]
the things I used to be able
to do but now are not possible.
I did miss my horses and that
I would never be [at all] able
to ride again but I was all
about looking forward.” Kylie
Sued her friend’s dad, father,
But she did not sway the jury.
But then she took to court,
Frimley Park Hospital, NHS,
But just before the court case,
She settled for £1m, no less.
Kylie spent much of her money,
On equipment for w/c rugby,
Which is no coward’s game,
But which lets you have rigidity.
Toughness is her top standard,
And she made the London Paras,
But recently changed to the club,
So at Rio threw 18.75m: 4th brass.
She loves being an auntie,
To her sisters little boy, nephew,
But is not looking to have kids,
Or relationships do or to accrue.
Revival fire makes spiritual summer cooking ablaze
...since souls are nourished with Scripture-blessings' bounty.
Tasty delicacies sizzle with love's impact against apathy’s coldness
…while brewing friendships turn to sweet blends of fellowships.
Thru the summer cooking festival of personality development
…I have learned the basics of right menu preparation for life-balance
Along the reinforcing lessons of good ingredients' mixing in humane dealings
…for wholesome relationships with meaningful bondings.
With summer cooking pursuits, I’m exposed to broiling tests
…and roasting trials that reveal integrity’s credibility.
Likewise are sautéing demands toward drive-acceleration
…with oil-utilization pressures against slothfulness and fruitlessness.
My spirit delights in every summer cooking quest for well-being's upkeep
…where The Master Chef’s virtuous cooking standards are showcased.
There expert cooks of various specialties are mentors par-excellence
…of courage, patience, steadfastness, and grace under fiery challenges.
Never will I miss summer cooking sessions of faith-fortitude endeavors
…that burn my doubt and heat me up for service in God’s furnace of compassion
Especially those times of being grilled against selfishness’ pride
…making me shaped, baked and flavored toward valued recipe’s perfection.
Thus, summer cooking ventures of reaching-out missions are to me vital
…needing divine fire for rescue, life-building and feeding engagements
Best of all, I savor dining moments with God, the Chief Cook
…midst simmering joy, bubbling gratefulness and steaming triumph-praise!
*Habakkuk 3:2 O LORD, I have heard thy speech, and was afraid: O LORD, revive thy work in the midst of the years, in the midst of the years make known; in wrath remember mercy.
June 30, 2018
A met a man who makes my heart sing,
he has qualities that I like a lot;
so, we go on a date and it ends badly,
you see- he got too sexy, too soon.
I told him I cannot be a lover yet,
because I need to be your friend first;
he gave me reasons why we should indulge,
one being- to see if we are meant to be.
If we are not friends we have nothing- I said,
so, I thought that was the end of it;
but, he kept calling me to meet up for coffee,
and he promised me he would not get sexy.
And he was true to his word, we talked, laughed,
he told me was re-decorating his apartment;
and asked for my help and I said yes,
I worried about being in his space but it was fine
We have fun and I found we could have opinions,
it is taking weeks to complete and guess what;
during that time a true friendship has begun,
we are learning so much about each other slowly.
And it is wonderful to know him better- the real him,
he is full Ojibwe and I told him I was half;
instant connection- we talk for hours of all things,
I like him a lot and the other night we kissed.
It was not forced but happened quite natural,
as he bent down to kissed me goodnight;
and I have to say I did not hate it,
I was not afraid of it and I am still glowing.
"This is the beginning of a wonderful relationship."
___________________
September 27, 2021
Poetry/Verse/A New Relationship
copyright Protected, ID 09-1391-407-27
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Relationships
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, NA, Judged 09/27/2021
She was called Jules, nickname for Julie
She had flaming red hair and eyes
of emerald green
Every time she walked into a room,
just her presence caused quite
an electric scene,
She made her living writing songs
& acting on the silver screen
Meanwhile the guy she Loved was
a simple blue collar man,
Gave her everything he could
Just wanted her to have all the good,
Said, "I'll support you anyway I can"
The world would never know his name,
He never sought fortune or fame,
But at day's end, they were each other's
Biggest fans
By: J.N.R Dutton
~ Life Is a Kaleidoscope ~
5/25/2026
Life is a game, so, which role do you choose to play?
In lifes’s cacophony of human hearts on display?
What is your role in this drama of millions of metrical, truth-sayers?
I ask myself this, whenver a poem, in moonlight mist, I conjure up to post.
Not expecting a comment from anyone, or to be lauded,
at a literati roast!
I’d much prefer to write poet songs, home alone about
the glory, or angst of relationships.
These are the songs, that dreams are made of, in the moonglowing-sapphiric experience.
Forever dreaming of soft, magical, deep verbiage and longing to hear love’s tender, calls.
The ecstasy, the dreaming, of kissing his expectant
lips, beneath rainbow-misted,of lit gentle, waterfalls.
Do we shape the poem,verily,or..does the magic of a
poem shape us?
Are we here to impress, or dare we try to really connect with another’s spititus?