Long Remedy Poems
Long Remedy Poems. Below are the most popular long Remedy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Remedy poems by poem length and keyword.
In regard to human's such abject abyss and absurdity, we can't help questioning: can human still be indulgent in the virulent vainglory having shaped their pretentious and dangerous preconception of a human-centered and human-dominated cosmos? can human waywardly go on with their ecologic vandalism having already triggered the macrocosmic nature's wrath and punishment? In fact, all their perverted precepts and practices have spoilt or to a large extent countervailed the hard-earned results of their positive efforts. ( e.g. vaccine development, treatment of the infected)
As can be seen more often than not: Overloaded hospital wards and overwrought medical workers are outflanked by waves of overwhelming epidemic peaks, and the process of vaccination popularization outpaced by the viruses' variation and proliferation. Indeed, human's arrogance, ignorance and particularly conscience absence have estranged them from one informative sense: The best remedy is the due respect for the macrocosmic nature that nurtures the entire universe and the due reverence for her sovereign system that really dominates every being and everything living or working inside her domain; The best vaccine is the virtue of taking all harmless lives kindly and taking kindly to the nature's heartfelt call for every bio-community member's benign ecofriendly behavior.
Having ironed out the aforesaid reasoning and arguments and having made clear our firm attitude and stance, we hereby urge Spanish, Dutch butchers and especially the Dane banes:
Stop your criminal and cruel cull without delay, do not engage any more in any activity that may bring us extinction, mass toll and physical or psychological harm, let us resume enjoying our old habitat safe and calm.
We also want to extend our exhortation to all of the human being: Make a thorough stock-taking of the circumstances of correlated infection-prone species and overall epidemic aspect before renouncing your previous evil ways and recommitting to building a livable eco-environment and lovable bio-community. Only after the strict imposition of precautionary disciplines upon your daily behavior, would there be a promising future of fine faith and fair fortune for every existent being under the sun, of course including yourselves; In the bargain, would come genuinely effective epidemic-controlling & prevention mechanisms for yourselves.
i need to stop frowning and epitomizing
and sell this Caddy to the Cardinal
trying to let it miss your attention won't fly
since writing is speech even if somewhat removed
or fit only for bouncy news anchor banter
pancake makeup a bit too aflame
like they do in shadow theater
where the container is the contained
because we can still index the cornucopia
eff you said the furry little May Pole Bunny
you can be sure he was in on it too
along with the Hen in the Willow
the Great Flaming Spiral in the Sky
and the nuns of St. Manacle
doing their Plantation Rebel Dance
with cascade of equally herkimer antecedents
perpetually enthused with the mystery of tomorrow
just don't try to tell me how to move my eyelids
smoke signals will always take care of that
cascading across the clacking copper contacts
in a total lack of continuity all at once
it is a pigeon tongue spoken in barter
barely able to walk after the derision of linguists
lobbed horseshoes across the barricades
against surgeons wielding kitchen knives
on a search and destroy mission
for chopped liver epicures from the Bank of Winter
living dead men's dreams was no picnic
memes eating my soul like red worms
only my degree from the School for the Sickly
standing between me and the Necromancers
who were emphatically not house trained
my collective unconscious operation manual
tossed on the burn pile half a life ago
now dumbed down to syntactically correct
in infinitesimal quantities with a Nefertiti smile
my mind a bordello of interpretation
God is not dead he is passe etc.
a raised by wolves feral non-conformist
everything orbits everything else
and that's space for you
which will bend yer crank kid
unless you can get your mood to swing
out from the nether realms of mourning
and the agony of oblique signals
written with the ***** of Satan
shaking money from your pockets again
a Conniving Backstabbing Bastard production
he hated coercion like he hated licorice
he was revolution incarnate all fresh and rosy
it was a kosher Pentecost event
tried quoting Lenin but it was too easy
the proletariat is people in a pickle
the dueling cucumbers of class warfare
now I'm on a dozen watch lists
followed by Diana's paparazzi
to this claustrophobic cinemaplex
and its temporal artery of light
at 3 in the afternoon
a good cheap remedy
following a bad diagnosis
Before my fallen wings I plead
Let me carry out this deed
Find a love in desperate need
Of a white knight on a steed
I already have a girl in mind
Are souls have met forever bind
Lost in chaos, torn in time
She is my melody for this rhyme
If you let me lover her now
I'll go into the lights shroud
Commiting no unspoken vows
Salvaging a princess leaving proud
In her unrest she might die
I feel compelled to save a life
There is no reason or a why
She can't be happy as a wife
A guarding angel I am to her
Send me to your beautiful earth
To enter a chance for rebirth
I am the remedy for this curse
I am speaking to the grim reaper
I need a miracle before I sleep sir
Letting you chase me creeper
Into the darkness ever deeper
Permit me to adjust my sails
Select a crew that never fails
Live through all the grails
Have a romance found in fairy tales
(her)He must be big and strong
Massive shoulders to carry on
The work that's hard and long
To keep me safe and right the wrong
I am sad to be like this
Crying moping and drawing a fist
To the sky, screaming a list
Of my problems little priss
Out of the shadows he came
Bearing white, massive the same
Hushing me to comfort and explain
His business here, also his name
(Angel)My name is Micheal a worrior man
Here to change your coarse of plan
Bestow upon you an awakening fan
That keeps alive with a tan
Escape with me out of this place
Hurry, run, lets make haste
You'll remain dignified and chaste
Where no one can hurt your darling face
We could live somewhere exotic
Live the dream with love erotic
Just be us, excluding the chaotic
To decline is said to be idiotic
Grab an extra shirt and pants
We'll leave right now, expose this chance
To take hold of something with a glance
Of humanity with a slight reminisce
(girl)Alright, we can go
Somewhere warm minus the snow
Sleeping by the fires glow
Seeing more than we know
Somewhere I can where a dress
Running wild without the stress
Enjoy having emotional sex
With a man big in the chest!
(Micheal)You have made the right choice
I admire your sweet tone of voice
The way you walk and your poise
This is our moment relax, rejoice!
To this day I do enclose
A vacation that I propose
You could wear little clothes
Pushing away all your foes.
Crushing and deystroying all your demons!
This Christmas, I am moved by the names in the genealogy of Jesus. I find the Biblical genealogy of Israel and Jesus to be a very fascinating study. There are four named women in the genealogy of Jesus and one name referenced. They are TAMAR, Rahab, Ruth, and Mary: Bathsheba is referenced to as Urias' wife.
When one reads TAMAR's story*, there is the feeling that what she did about her situation was over the top, out of culture, way out of line, and out of the realm of Godliness. By the same token, if we put our feet in her shoes, during her time, we might feel the same as she did regarding her plight and how to remedy the situation. Her patience ran completely out, and she felt that her father-in-law Judah was not living up to his responsibility. However, she did not bother to appeal to a greater earthly authority, nor did she bother to consult with The Lord. She took matters into her own hands, and although her approach was deceitful, her outcome was acceptable to her.
Judah's verdict against her, by current human standards, seemed judgmental and harsh. But Tamar forced him to face the truth and to commute her sentence of death. TAMAR proved to be a force to be reckoned with.
Judah speaks to all of us who spend our lives seeking self-gratification and running rampantly in our reckless self-righteousness. TAMAR speaks volumes about taking matters into our own hands, seeking desperately to find a fix for what ails us. More often than not, such fantasy fixes end in failures, and we live with the consequences. Self-righteousness is often very subtle and is capable of wrapping itself around the best of us. It's the type that says, "If I was writing a Holy Book, there would not be space on my Holy pages for the likes of Judah and Tamar". As a human filled with flaws, flops, and failures of my own, I am most grateful for the grace of God that has been extended to me. Both Judah and TAMAR, by no goodness of their own, found themselves in the genealogy of 'The Christ" who presents Himself as the Savior of the whole world. That includes Judah, TAMAR, you, and me.
12042017PoSoupContest, Favourite Poem From December 2017, Julia Ward
*Genesis 38
"Give Me Your Tired" posted 7 Jun 2021
i'd join the morning person's club except their meetings start before noon
early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and beat
they make clocks to tell me when to get up i need one to tell me why
a bicycle cannot stand up by itself because it is two-tired
my wife got tired of hearing my zodiak puns it taurus apart
teen's concept of an early bird: one who wakes up at the break of noon
[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]
"Just Asking (part III)" posted 14 Jun 2021
wow, is that an optical illusion or am I just seeing things?
why does the sun on the raisin bran cereal box wear sunglasses?
why are wise men and wise guys considered opposites of each other?
when styrofoam companies ship their product what do they pack it in?
if swimming is so great for the figure then how do you explain whales?
how does the person who drives the snowplow get to work in the morning?
[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]
"It's All In A Name" posted 21 Jun 2021
i visited a new dating website in Prague they call it ~ Czech Mate ~
there's a new contraceptive on the market it's called ~ i kid you not ~
my vote for the best beauty parlor name of all time ~ curl up and dye ~
good name for an ultra-conservative fashion boutique ~ clothes minded ~
maybe you shouldn't name your brand new restaurant ~ eater's digest ~
perhaps this plumbing company is worth a gamble ~flush or full house~
[humor attribution: #2 and #5 Edmo Snord, #3 and #6 are actual company names I've seen, others found online of unknown origin]
"Random Brain Guano (part III)" posted 28 Jun 2021
children are hereditary if your folks had none, neither will you
the best remedy for your bad memory is milk of amnesia
buy your valentine a bikini it's the least you can do for her
i tried making a belt out of watches it was a big waist of time
my toddler kept chewing on electrical cords so I grounded him
sometimes Bigfoot is confused with Sasquatch Yeti doesn't seem to mind
It was when I reached my fortieth birthday.
Not so young, but, youthfulness ruled the day.
I was known as an educationist, around,
My intelligence and wisdom, they felt, was sound.
Not many were invited to my birthday party,
My friends said I looked hale-and-hearty.
Cut the cake and with all simple meals shared,
I felt, as though by all, I was loved and cared.
It's when I stood to thank each one that evening,
Something tucked my tongue for no evident reasoning.
I stood silent, shocked, perplexed and lost,
None could understand what had happened to the host.
I tried to talk. I could not. Tried again; failed!
Not knowing my state of mind my friends hailed.
When, after hard trials, like dew drops, my tears spilt,
All, around, understood. Lo! There’s some tilt…
They took hold of me and asked me what happened,
I could not articulate; all seemed so saddened.
Doctor - some said; That's what they soon did,
None could remove from my tongue that lid.
I, an orator, remained speechless. Is it God's work?
Or demons do such tricks that God gets the jerk?
I resigned to the state of affairs and remained silent,
Everyone around understood this and became quiet.
I felt my trouble is nothing before John Milton,
I could see; he could not; My path is, hence, silken.
Pain in me, yet, grew, like fire in a dry forest,
Though I seemed silent, within I had great tempest.
Having found no remedy in treatments mountainous,
I turned to God, who is bundle of boundlessness.
I surrendered to him and said - Give me speech -
In return, I will, your glories ever preach.
In return? O fool! What would you give God?
Inner mind said. What could to God you award?
It's, hence, I lay before him, as though dead,
As mute as a muted lute, I went ahead.
In one of praise and worship during night adoration,
I could feel, within my tongue, certain restoration.
Is it reality or illusion? I did never know,
Dumb will speak, scriptures said, if believed so.
I believed; trusted; relied on his immense power,
Many prayed during that very long operation hour.
I talked. They could understand me as before,
Does anyone know, yet, the truth within the core...???
God and God alone is the truth I firmly say,
Without him, for salvation, there is no other way...!
24 October 2022
ER: Enlightenment Recovery Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Music and romance are camarilla comrades,
just like poems are my shield and arrows.
But not all lullabies of lovers,
harmonise like a street choir of angels.
If love resembles the weather,
then poetry is like a snowflake.
Its fragile abstract nature
can betray the innocence of a poetic heart -
serenading in slaughtered symphonies of silence.
When lust burns in assailable impurity,
love suffers in small doses,
performing a masquerade concealing truthful tones.
So what is the purpose of poetry if it offers no remedy?
Whispering winds form hailstorms in my mind,
wondering if there is a sanctuary
for lonely spirits suffering as seasonally sad souls.
In the midst of melancholic misfortune,
I wish to drown in tepid tides of holy water,
because fate is frozen in winter wanderlust.
Heartache taught me how to be a poet,
each scar inflicted from profound lies and cries.
But what is the purpose of poetry if there is no muse?
In the perception of imagination,
I search for the one
who left frozen tears on my pillowcase.
But her eyes see celestite waves kissing
ecru shorelines under blue pearlescent skies,
blessed with the radiance of saffron sunshine,
in the heavenly harmony of relaxing music.
So, I wonder why she resides in ebony emotions,
refusing to dance, lost in lyrical lament.
Some spirits evolve into envious entities,
but mine just misses the rose window to her soul.
When wine dark skies glare in misery and gloom,
composing ashen clouds to pour in plentiful rain,
I feel the chills of an Antarctic iced leaf on an ice covered lake,
but maintain an evergreen glow,
hoping to forever illuminate like cathartic moonlight -
reflecting upon her bronze fibers.
Opposites attract like fireflies in the night.
I am the bridge and you are the chorus.
so I follow footprints in the snow,
under the guidance of devotary sincere stars.
In the hope we will make melodies at midnight -
merging into rivers of unassailable purity
And If I can't be a poet, then I'll become a poem.
I cannot predict how my ink will spill,
so will you guide each verse to give it a purpose,
breathing my words into life?
Will you love me more than poetry?
Kissing all those diamond promises
into my rhinestone heart -
or will you massacre the music,
abandoning me like an unfinished symphony.
(In a 19th-century legal judgment studied by all who
learn the English common law, Sturges v. Bridgeman,
the court found in favour of a "nice" doctor over a
"common" manufacturer, for reasons of pure snobbery.)
The Candyman Can’t
Some legal battles have the power to thrill,
while others never have, and never will.
Some touch on human themes which really matter,
and some do not. We’re dealing with the latter.
This present case is hardly OJ Simpson:
it lacks dramatic shape, and simply limps on
listlessly, with abstruse reasoning,
no sex or violence to give it seasoning.
One Mister Bridgman manufactures sweets,
in premises where Wigmore crosses/meets
its neighbour, Wimpole. Eighteen seventy-nine
of our salvation, two lives intertwine
when Doctor Sturges takes consulting rooms
around the corner. Disagreement looms,
for Bridgman’s grinding, pounding candy line’s
destroying Sturges’ peace, fragging his mind.
The law of nuisance really is quite funny.
It says, “he did you harm? Well, here’s some money”.
What if you’d rather dodge the damage, and
defer the dollars? How to countermand
the duty-breach-then-damages regime?
Suppose we interpose a better scheme?
Instead of “you must suffer, he must pay”,
we stop the harm? The problem goes away!
This ruse is known as “equity”. It functions
by granting prior relief (they’re called injunctions).
So Sturges stemmed stentorian sweetie sounds
by order of the court, and Bridgman found
his business gagged and bound by hoops of steel,
for no good reason. What to do? Appeal!
(For thus advise the lawyers. Such affairs
drag on for years. The lawyers? They get theirs!)
Said Bridgman: “I’ve been cranking out jujubes
for decades now. It’s all gone down the tubes
because some quack dislikes the earnest hum
of my devices. Why, then, did he come
to Wimpole Street? He wants tranquility?
Go hang his shingle in Highgate Cemetery!
I have a remedy for Doctor Sturges:
it’s swallowing his antimony purges!”
But Bridgman lost. One cannot help but feel
that making toffee wasn’t quite genteel
enough. Their Lordships said behaviour
that’s unacceptable around Belgravia
can find a home in Bermondsey. The latter
has lots of lowly types. It doesn’t matter
if they have noisome noise, and have to live
in filthy fumes – for they’re not sensitive.
A "Highly" Debated Issue
From glaucoma to chemotherapy
Medical marijuana has its place
But you won’t find any prescribed
In the conservative Sunshine State
Chris couldn’t eat while under treatment
Watched him lose one-hundred pounds
He had no access to an appetite stimulant
His weight was 85 when laid in the ground
Hefty Jen had lived a life of kindness
Taught spiritually uplifting courses
She suffered when chemo raced through her system
Until people said, “How beautifully slim her corpse is.”
When Dad’s glaucoma grew severe
He relied only on eye drops that made him tear
His gift of sight was taken slowly
Though THC might have helped his eyes clear
And when I first wrestled with ulcerative colitis
A college friend brought me a joint, said, “Try it”
Less than an hour later I was eating without pain
But laws are clear, Florida doctors can’t prescribe it
Research has proved there are benefits
Only medical marijuana use can provide
But those who worry about drug abuse
Say those who could benefit should be denied
Each day in the headlines we read of drunk drivers
Mostly teens who seek access through friends
And if they want marijuana, they find a way to get it
But for those who abide by laws, agony never ends
If smoking pot or ingesting a tablet of THC
Can help a person who is suffering great pain
Don’t you think the time has come
To ask prohibitionists to explain
Why people who are hurting needlessly
Cannot have access to any remedy
That soothes their aches, improves their last days
Diminishing the symptoms of their tragedy
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
Why I love C.D’s poem “ A Highly Debated Issue”:
Carolyn Devonshire’s poems showcase the extraordinary thoughtful mind behind those lines. All of Carolyn’s poems are profound, and full of depth, but this poem especially touched me - I had the similar experience of losing a beloved one to the deadly disease, and we were not able to give him relief during the last days of intense pain. Carolyn was a strong, sensitive, generous, caring human being and a talented poetess, who loved life in her own way - she loved sand, and left her footprints on the shores of this mysterious earth.
Celebrating Carolyn’s poetry: an Uncontest Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
He stood at the foot of the hill and gazed at her watching from her window sill with the night light shining in her face and particles of hope running all over the place. Her bulging eyes circle the contours of the deep spilling oil from the bottom of the well onto the village street and the night pays its own sacrifice.
Oh, mountain of hope you have the remedy for my soul, mountain of hope come and rest with me before I grow old. I can feel the vibration in the clouds and I can see the deity standing on top of the mountain in a golden shawl with hands stretch out reaching towards the Pyramid floating in the sky. I know that I have to make that journey but the path to the sea is full of debris and the roads that emerge from the back are blocked.
Build me a castle on top of the sea where my soul will know no misery build me a castle on top of the sea where I can escape from the rigorous journey; that is only way out and you can attempt it if you have no doubt.
The mountain of hope is on the other side of the sea, the mountain of hope will solidify your dignity. Take the remains of those that died tragically in the street and sprinkle it in front of the castle in the deep; light a candle and say a silent prayer for them and for the couple that fell off the bed, their remains are in a bottle and their last wish was to let in float in the deep among the aquatic family.
Time passes quickly and they are coming, the weather is constantly changing and heavens are glowing; thousands of them stand in the desert gazing at the skies above them something is happening up there and the earth is responding down here.
Lights are flashing all around and a rocket is sailing across the city, where it will land nobody knows, but it will move what mind cannot measure and blow up what the spirit cannot understand and it explode in a distant land and courage will keep them strong.
The mountain of hope is shifting, the mountain of hope is singing they have broken through gate and occupy a spot-on top of the mountain.
Destiny has led them to that place because the mountain of hope knows no race, each one has a place and they will live there until the rest their days. The mountain of hope is the secret to their soul, pitch your tent on top of the mountain before the sun goes down, the mountain of hope is where it all began .