Long Remarry Poems
Long Remarry Poems. Below are the most popular long Remarry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Remarry poems by poem length and keyword.
Charlie the woodchopper of Fremont
began to build his new home,
it had to have an elegant dome
with a golden trim glittering at night.
Charlie couldn't afford
a Victorian mansion and settled
for a modest ranch with small rooms
and a patio with a sliding door;
there, apple trees swayed
and stranded cats played...
Brawny, the dog, guarded the house's windows
from that armed intruder,
Charlie's rifle was ready to make gunshot fumes
and scare the thief wearing his stolen trousers!
Charlie lost his adorable wife
to a car accident, she hit a tree head-on
while being distracted by a deer
driving across a wet road in Denver;
since then he lived life in strife...
a widower who refused to remarry
and break the matrimonial vows;
what he has left now is a cocaine addict son!
Charlie spends his time reading the Daily Review
which is one of the newspapers free to senior citizens,
and he often wipes off his reading glasses that look new,
but taking them off he loses the perception of things;
his days are long and sad, he wishes he had
a companion, but Leonor cannot be replaced
by anyone...she smiles at him from a portrait
he painted himself on a wood plaque and it seems real!
Quite a few times he has wept and tried
to deal with his unbearable pain, but only prayers could!
He only listens for Leanor's voice that has a ghostly sound!
if in one endless moonless night
suddenly I might lose my sight
would you promise to stand by me
and continue to protect me tenderly
would you gingerly hold on to me
and still call me your sweet baby
should I ever abandon all my senses
suddenly make a mad run for the fences
would you gently cradle and rock me
and sing me a sweet soothing melody
should I ever succumb to melancholy
with somber whims and bouts of folly
would you still find it in you to cherish me
even remarry me wholeheartedly
should I lose all sign of memory
and forget everything you meant to me
my darling, I’ve never doubted deep in my heart
my love for you I’d never want to fall apart
we promised to stay by each other’s side forever
thru life’s hurdles we’ll ease on down the river
AP: 2nd place 2021, 2nd place 2020, 3rd place 2020, Front Page Pick 2020
Submitted on March 7, 2022 for A BRIAN STRAND STRUCTURED contest sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
The poet's own;
Now alone;
I see myself as nothing;
No one would have me;
I was co-created by God/Mom/Dad;
In my day hospital cost about eight-hundred
Dollars
I am elated, molded and created by the
Father
I see myself as sure;
Was once insecure;
my self esteem, my self importance;
Has no relevance;
I believed that I am a chosen one;
I've always worked on a job;
When they allowed me to have one;
I don't like my teeth because there're not pearly white;
Now there's no hope inside my heart;
My minds all torn apart;
Lost my wife in 2016;
Lost 2 jobs in 2017;
Yet I have joy
What AM I HAPPY for;
I am elated, molded and created by the
Father
I see myself as sure;
Was once insecure;
My hope is longevity of life;
I'm widowed maybe I'll remarry have a new wife;
What is life if God not there;
Jesus holds the hands to all His children;
I've ran away in the past couldn't hide;
Did I say I got Jesus on my side;
My tears, I'll wipe them dry;
My fears, I denial and;
I'm a wretch undone, I'm the only one;
Who cares less about myself;
I just a mess;
I still want longevity of life;
Want to be one of those humans that see Christ descend;
I'm imperfect in every way;
But I'm on my knees I pray;
If I'm not good enough for me;
I'm not struggling, I'm evolving;
I'm not good enough, but I AM;
I'm not old enough, but I AM;
I shall not fall on my face, I won't
I'm covered by my God's merited amazing grace;
In my weakness I'm strong;
In my short stature I'm tall;
Nothing this world and the people there of;
No devil in hell gonna get me down;
Not even my negative thoughts of my self;
Gonna make me frown, make me hold my breath;
I'm God's first son;
The Poet's Own
08/22/2017
I am a widower
O’ and maybe now
I want to get married
I am alone, yet not alone
I’ve got God, Jesus
I am alone, yet not alone
I got Jesus…
You see marriage is honorable
And see when you’re faithful
And you just believe
No one is perfect
And the only perfection we got
Mankind our only goodness, perfection is when we enter Christ
You see I maybe want to remarry
If there’s someone out there
Whose Godly, it’s not about physical/sexual
It’s all about praising together the righteousness
Of our Father
It’s about honorable marriage to a soul mate
Let me relate…
If another comes along
She’s have to be sent from God
For He’s the only one who (with her) shall understand
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yes I am alone yet not alone
For as long as I’m breathing and even after that
I yet still I have God and Christ…
IF some Godly daughter of the most High would have me
I maybe think that I would maybe want to get married
if it happens or not...I yet still I have God and Christ…
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
/
^
My
Heart
9/21/19
Written words & arranged music by
James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
Every dawn is the most promising time of the day. Promises of a new beginning, to start anew, to start afresh.
And each day I love you more and more, and I feel helpless and vulnerable. Feelings can make you mature and it can make you lonely too. Alone among a crowd.
I got a letter from you. You wrote a letter to your ammu. Filled with love and understanding.
I still can remember the day when you showed me the picture of the girl your father ended up marrying.
“Ammu, will you see this?” You sounded hesitant.
I wanted to see it. I saw the picture. Your father, his usual smile, and beside him, his new wife. A beautiful young lady.
I felt nothing. I gave up on him long ago, long, long ago. I just strangely felt that I used to sit beside him when he used to smile, almost the same way. It felt strange.
You, my oldest daughter, now 13, are also turning into a beautiful lady. When you smile, when sunlight reflects on your knee-long hair, I think about my mother. I cannot think about her often. Somehow the door got shut as it seems less painful, it seems more convenient.
At night, we, two lonely souls, were trying to sleep, side by side.
You asked me at last, “Ammu, will you not remarry? Don’t you love someone?”
I was thinking about answering that. It is never an easy answer.
When you were a child, you used to declare that you will be a gynecologist when you grow up. You were so sure about that! You, my oldest daughter, used to draw pictures of Butterflies, rainbows. And in those pictures, we used to smile. We used to hold hands with each other. Me, baba, you and your little brother.
I still remember about one day. We were sitting, the front yard of our house was a cozy place to sit and chat. You were jumping with your brother. I saw a young boy walking by. He was looking at you. A boy of your age, under the twilight sky, was looking at my young daughter.
Last night you were holding my hand. Your voice felt soft and gentle. You sounded softer than your usual tone. You wanted to know about my future plan. You were asking me while your hand was touching mine.
For a strange reason, I was thinking about that evening. I felt loved, I felt special.
And I felt displaced.
Atlast,he has married,
Am now less worried,
My son has brought a wife,
Whom together he will share a life,
But am confused,she is strange,
Hers are a wide cant do work range,
Help me please,this wife will kill me ooh.
She does not know how to cook,
She only prefers ready food on a hook,
Preparing food makes her dirty,
Her nails are painted in plenty,
She can not cut tomatoes,
Even picking,she prefers her toes,
Help me ooh,this wife will suffocate me.
House hold chores are a new thing,
She asks me to hire a new house girl,
She is too classy to do them,
Hers is online twitter chatting,
Truly am stuck,
I hear she is a slay queen,
Dear Lord,lessen my plight…
She cant cook with firewood,
She prefers gas cooker,
Smoke will choke her throat,
And make her voice coarse,
Today she almost killed me,
When i told her to dig,
What a hell,son please remarry.
Am tired,yes am tired,
Son,please look for a decent lady,
One with character and well behaved,
Look for a typical one,
Avoid twerky ones,lest we suffer,
Divorce her,lets have peace,
Dear son,make mum happy.
Poet Igweee
FRAGILE
I watched my mother
Beautiful, petite, smart
Widowed at 28 with three small children
And people said, "Be extra good, your mother is fragile."
A blonde Jackie Kennedy,
Right down to the pill-box hat
The early 60s when women were pretty, songless birds
Protected in their husbands' split-level cages.
Remarry was the only way, "they" said
As she ran for public office, favored to win.
But he wouldn't have a wife that worked
Unless ironing his shorts three times to get it "right."
Glass is fragile. I found that out
As I heard him smashing it when he beat her at night.
Bones are fragile. I found that out
When mommy had broken fingers and toes after loud nights.
My mother was many things.
A victim. A woman. But fragile?
Mommy bird sang a song of invincibility
As she escaped her cage with five children in tow.
I have two girls of my own. Smart.
Beautiful. Compassionate. I am proud.
They know that fragile means breakable
And that women in our family are more steel than glass.
Fragile is for collectibles we buy and sell.
My mother taught me we cannot be owned.
Fragile is for birds without a voice.
But my mother sang, even if in a different key.
My mother was the strongest woman I ever knew.
I hope she looks down on her female descendants
And sees that one Jackie-like woman in a pill box hat
Inspired generations of decidedly non-fragile women.
January 26, 2017
Nero fiddled while Rome burning
A poet dead at home while singing
There lived a poet,a fisherman
In pain of cancer the hangman
No cure, beyond medication
A radio recorder,his last requisition
His spouse acquired it in no time to wait
Disposing a wardrobe,the only home mate
Lying his head on her laptop
Recording voice hurried up
Born a poem in pain of labour disturbing peace
"My heart is beating today in a rapid pace
Don't know it's calling bell for my demise
You took care of me all the time,my wife,in wise
River is flooded,sudden like a broken pipe
When the crop is still in ripe
The lives of you three on the point of knife
The lives of you three on the point of knife
My dreams crashed to pieces like a broken wind screen
Waving death near the bed is red not green
My last breath to cease before dusk
Darling,announce my demise to the village, in no luck
God bless you! in battle and the two little in kick
God bless you! In battle and the two little in kick
Nothing is left to consume at home
Without bothering others dome
Darling,carry our children in the path all went bright
Wipe out your grief in this belief at least to slight
No belongings saved for the death to grab along
No kith and kin with kind belong
No harm,hurry,
Remarry!
If the road is remote for you to drive and carry
If the road is remote for you to drive and carry
What to do at this late?
No gates found to get out of fate
Time has come nigh for my journey from this earth
You be my spouse also in my next of birth
Children..............,............!
Neighbors in vigilance of the pin drop silence proceeded
To witness the poet and his wife lying dead before the poem concluded
They found the radio still tuning in full scale
A poem in Sinhala in it told an untold tale
The whole village cried like rain with gale
The purpose of Nobel prize is in total fail!
Atlast,he has married,
Am now less worried,
My son has brought a wife,
Whom together he will share a life,
But am confused,she is strange,
Hers are a wide cant do work range,
Help me please,this wife will kill me ooh.
She does not know how to cook,
She only prefers ready food on a hook,
Preparing food makes her dirty,
Her nails are painted in plenty,
She can not cut tomatoes,
Even picking,she prefers her toes,
Help me ooh,this wife will suffocate me.
House hold chores are a new thing,
She asks me to hire a new house girl,
She is too classy to do them,
Hers is online twitter chatting,
Truly am stuck,
I hear she is a slay queen,
Dear Lord,lessen my plight...
She cant cook with firewood,
She prefers gas cooker,
Smoke will choke her throat,
And make her voice coarse,
Today she almost killed me,
When i told her to dig,
What a hell,son please remarry.
Am tired,yes am tired,
Son,please look for a decent lady,
One with character and well behaved,
Look for a typical one,
Avoid twerky ones,lest we suffer,
Divorce her,lets have peace,
Dear son,make mum happy.
I met her as my colleague
She was in her late 30s
Trying to shield her boundless sad
With her busy schedule and her son.
Chosen to teaching
To forget the in-laws teasing
And parents worrying.
Taken to reading in full swing
And the never-ending serials of the
Wonder idiot box*.
She has got parted away
From her man, we were told by rumours
He was the incarnation of beastly demon
And adulterated with many a woman
Someone said at some time, somewhere.
All her colleagues pay attention to her story
They ask her never
Nor do they accept her ever
As he has run away from him
One noble lady feels
“She is very adamant
He must be good man.”
The truth is that she has not seen him even once
“She could not live with him”
Remarks her one time friend.
“She cannot be adjusted
She is very much egoistic”
One male colleague gives her moral support.
He talks to her always
His looks are always everywhere on her
Her inquisitive boss once quizzed her
“What is your husband?’
As he could not ask her
“Where is your husband?’
She showed her annoyance
But said “He is in the States”
Nobody knows his state.
So, interest is on her marital status.
“Why does not she remarry?” – a concerned voice.
“Who will marry her with a child?” – a concerned response.
The neighbours, not so neighbourly.
Keeps a watch on her by scrutinizing every visitor to her house
Trying to get a degree by researching
About her life.
They know more about her than her
Their research bend of mind needs to be conferred
With a doctoral degree.
The much-learned society
Who would not even come out
When their neighbour’s son met with an accident
Is always ready to tell about her unknown story
Even to a two-minute old friend
And kept open their intelligentsia
To find her life story
As their life’s mission.
She walks in silence
And lives around noises
Not knowing or conniving the murmurs around.