Long Resided Poems
Long Resided Poems. Below are the most popular long Resided by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Resided poems by poem length and keyword.
Romantic
teacher, writer, fitness enthusiast and self-proclaimed movie critic
who loves family, friends, and food,
I play with words, explore interesting/controversial topics and celebrate life;
feel grounded in my Earth sign, zealous in my goals, and happy in my solitude;
fear having unresolved issues, becoming helpless in old age or suffering pain; would like to regain perfect health, take a family cruise and visit faraway friends.
Homesick for Iowa, I’ve resided 3/4 my life now, however, in the Beehive state -
Realist
March 29, 2020
Contest: Bio Modified Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Maybe what’s good is not my saying
But what I said is not bad
I can write; I can do
I can confess; I can avoid
What I ignore is not for my ignorance
What I cannot learn is not for illiteracy
Life is the name of struggle on the earth
But death is what I need to be learned!
I do not know what I do not believe
I do not know where I do not reside
I do not know what I did not still learn
But if I believed, resided, learned I knew all!
Of new and continuous new
I need to learn before judgments
Of old and oldest ancient
I need to swap myself to the point before verdicts
In front of learning
Judgments and verdicts are invalid discussion
Political, social, economic, religion, caste and racial power
All are not the power of knowledge!
Continuous learning is knowledge
And knowledge that has been implemented is wisdom
In the practical life people know best
What is good and what is bad
But regarding the practice of beliefs, nations, countries
I need to continuous learning
Just learn, learn constant and let me learn
Before making you the subject of fun
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
02/11/2022
Getting About The House
Old man feels his head before he steps from bed
Hair once resided there so long ago
Now disappeared in hippie dreams and smoke
He props himself up real slow
On elbow then on hand to stand
Makes a right turn into the bathroom to manage issues there
The world is no longer round. It lost its largeness
Inside, it shrunk. It turned into the squared off rooms
Meanderings, explorations, resume inside, well defined
A universe that moves as slow, rigidly confined
The fossil from the past moves down the hall
Made a left then right to find the kitchen
Still fixed in place, the same location every time, day and night
Old man no longer walks in open spaces out in nature
Kept warm inside with shades and blinds closed tightly
Eggs and toast beside a cup of coffee hot
He knows what he likes
With another left and right in fuzzy slippers
He whispers to himself in mumbles and in slurs
Curses but no one hears a word
Turns in the opposite direction to find his bed again
Getting about the house gets easier every time
According to him, that's what he said
Night fells suddenly sending rays of hope in the sky as
anxious hearts make music with their flute and the violin with its tender strings bring back memories of my youth. It is the part of me that no one can see but something bigger than me is always speaking to me and it is the light that is guiding me. I love the musical hymns, especially those composed with strings and the innocent voices of the altar boys echoing from afar, when thousands of voices combine together and the musical band plays a special song and procession and dignitaries walk briskly through aisles the whole world will come alive.I can hear the rustling wind beating against my window sill and the tenants below me engaged in a brawl about the height of the city wall; we walked a thousand miles to length and breadth of the city and there we found nature curled up like a soft ball listening to the barking dogs on the outskirts of the community. Walk with me an extra mile to the center of the square and I will show you what transpired there. Some circles are engraved in the middle and the tomb of doom once lived there but it was exhumed and transported to the external hemisphere and a valley runs beneath that leads to the street and the missionaries once resided there. The storm took them by surprise and that is the only place they could survive; but the memory continues to live there. Read the markings on the wall carefully and everything in that place, it will explain the mystery about that place; you must know the facts before it’s too late. Freedom is coming to the church and the theory about man was created from dirt will walk through the door when mankind comes face to face with reality, the text cannot explain it but your hearts will believe it. A thousand years of tradition will fade away and the new reality will usher in and you will start to sing modern hymns.
I want you to give me a ride, poetry
Why not we talk for a while, before?
I am dropping a droplet of whim here
And, I want to hear from you, for more.
I do not know as precise as this morning
How you will take these words to mend.
But a try will not hurt, I can tell for sure
At least, will not break your knee to bend.
I am not sure, poetry, what will be a good start
To focus on a poem that long faded in me, slowly.
I can tell you, poetry, where it all, resided though
As a believer of miracles of diamond hearts, honestly.
And the other day, I was listening to a music
A piece, there, just to relieve stress and strain.
At the start, they told to close my eyes, and so I did
And yet, I realized, I could not break free the pain.
It was not even the pretty faces, those were
Once so precious to me than my ongoing life.
Nothing so special to mention about it though
It is all about my laugh, shouts, and also my strife.
I never had a conscious taste, never tagged my notes
As my dreams passed me, and let me move beyond those.
I will ask your time, poetry, may be, just for one more day
In dreams and patience, in love and peace, try only to stay.
Love and truth and beauty…we are constantly searching for their signs…
until we learn the subtle art of reading between the lines.
In our cribs…lying on our backs is most likely the very first place
we learn to read between the lines of the smiles on a parent’s face.
Reading between the lines of their smiles as they beam down from up above…
we find their beauty…we discover their truth…we experience their love.
As we grow a little older eventually there comes a day
we learn to read between the lines of everything our parents’ do…and say.
Between the lines of their smiles, their eyes, their touch…we begin to read…
how they are trying in this life to give us…everything we need.
There comes a time when we’re older, however, when we think what they are telling us is unkind and unfair…
but if we take the time to read between the lines we find their love is waiting there.
And If we’re lucky enough to find someone to love…a partner…where our two loves intertwine….
we find joy in spending the rest of our lives reading between each other’s lines.
As we grow in age and wisdom…the more and more our planet turns…
the more experiences we have…the more and more we learn
how, when we read between the lines of life so much insight is provided…
how between the lines is where… love and truth and beauty…always have resided.
And as together we grow old and wrinkled…
when it comes to love and truth and beauty…
we longer need search for signs…
because
in all our years together…
we have gotten pretty good
at reading between the lines.
A self-convert Shaiva woman, slowly guided
By cosmic power of Brahman which resided
In the fabric of every being and everything.
She awakened very young, began searching.
She eventually reached the same conclusion
As old sages did in order to undo the illusion:
Nothing is truly separate, all are connected.
She realized she's always divinely protected.
Just after the beginning of her middle age,
She met a man born a Vaishnava: a sage.
They fell in love, then he said intuitively,
"I sense you should worship Shivaji."
She is glad knowing there is no disharmony.
She told him about her long spiritual journey.
She praised and thanked Vishnu and Shiva,
"We are the greatest devotees of Harihara."
Without holding requests
The joy of art
Painting embarks
Protect one another
Grew strength from each other
Smiles well preserved
Love plenty in reserve
Hearts now witnessed
The gift of forgiveness
God protected
As he ressurected
He died for our sins
To give us a second chance to live
Give thanks to God
For he loves us way beyond
Teaching it right
For he gave us the courage inside
New life begins
Resided within
We won through selfless love and forgivness
Which God himself has witnessed
We give him much thanks
Through the water we drank
Possible through mind
Heart did remind
We laugh and play
We also pray
Greatness of smiles
We added God style
Smiles are free
We offer thee
Beautiful art
Sharing with heart
Showing our love
For God resides thereof
Growing up
We never gave up
Through our acts of kindness
We honor the Righteoussness
No other like him
For many have sinned
Appreciating presence
Of our living essence
The Painting
A perplexing plot, an enchanting romance, it quivers with passion,
mystery, as lies unravel and family secrets are exposed at last!
Can a garage sale painting reveal secrets . . . or hidden truths.
And for striving artist Miranda, finding it is only the beginning
into a labyrinth of lies, horror--and murder. It brings Tom Ashton
into her lonely life and eventually makes her a suspect in his
brutal and fatal shooting. She sets out to solve his death and
clear her name--and uncover why Tom wanted the painting back
so desperately... what was in the painting that he did not want
her to know-- Miranda will go through the crumbling gates of Ashton
Manor where Tom's hidden truths resided. Where family secrets
lay concealed -- who had a reason to kill Tom and who has decided
that Miranda is the next to die? What is hidden within that painting?
SHE STANDS BACK LOOKING AT THE PAINTING STARING AND
PONDERING, WHAT TRUTHS DO YOU HIDE?
__________________________
June 5, 2013
Poetry/Narrative/Introduction, The Painting
Copyright Protected, ID 06-483-459-05
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, You've Written a Novel
sponsor, Judy Konos, Judged 06/17/2013
First Place
HEAVEN THROUGH THE EYES
Won't you tell me places called heaven on earth?
for so long, so long, I tried to search and search
Come east. Come west. North to south, I all reach.
my quest began since day of my birth. . .
It's pre-historic paleolithic age, this beautiful place
Karnataka's architecture amidst it's greenery.
Heaven through my eyes seeing such scenery
to walk it's ground my thoughts gently grace.
Meandering many miles from a dripping spring,
the Fraser River in it's glory catches my eye,
heaven through my eyes as I stand nearby
to hear it's lapping waters as it sings.
This magnificent fissure, one of earth's abyss,
the Grand Canyon on the Colorado Plateau.
Heaven through my eyes, in erosion flow
resided the ancient Pueblo whom lived in bliss.
Supple strong arms cradle me from harm
Salty tears they slowly fall, to flood
cracking gradually sadness that long clog
Heaven reveal to my eyes your charm
behold thee not by a necklace of glitter
but a love so peaceful and oh so tender
that 'til this life is through I'll remember
no longer do I want ever be shut!
as all these infuse in me reasons to smile
and again take a look at yellow horizons
with it's curly shaped clouds white and some blue
Heaven is revealed to my eyes by the presence of you!
Evergreen leaves so lush cluster among trees
Daisies, magnolias, orchids they paint a beauty
Ocean blue touch the sea's face of purity
Heaven through my eyes displayed for free!
Beyond this life, beyond this whole wide world--
do you believe a place called heaven up there?
If you do, won't you tell me a clue to exactly know where
and what to do for so long, so long there I like to curl?
©J. A. Fraser and O. E. Guillermo
01:00 pm, December 26, 2014