Long Rice Poems
Long Rice Poems. Below are the most popular long Rice by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rice poems by poem length and keyword.
Reality is rising out of the earth, mixing water with dirt, the children are playing in the mud from morning until sun down and the crisis in the street have disrupted the long awaited peace, and I patiently watched their short lived freedom evaporating in thin cold air.
They once bore the amour of truth from the days of their youth but with the passing of time, wisdom has crossed over to the other side and reality runs like mad men through the street.
You don’t know the price of goods for you have been living in the woods, raisin buns have gone up and the eagle bread is soaring in the sky. The prices are way out of reach and it is hard to compete; anxiety is running throughout the town and the hustlers are running around looking for cheap barging.
Food is going to be rationed again, run and tell your friend, get ready for the big overhaul, it is going to make some people bawl, a pound of chicken for ten American dollars, a pound of steak for twelve dollars, eggs for six dollars a dozen, rice, flour, sugar and cornmeal for three dollars and fifty cents per pound, oatmeal for six dollars and fifty cents per pack and seawater fish for five dollars a pound what more can I say when reality stares you in the face, you have to do something before it’s too late.
Come and share your bread with me and I will make your dream come true, come and share your bread with me and enjoy my company. The people are coming out of the lion’s den, they are looking for new friends, one bread to feed a family of five; and there peace and love will abide.
There is just not enough for everyone and reality is singing a different song so meet me at the garden center before noon because my family and friends will be coming home soon.
I have to buy buckets, mops, bleach, and detergent to clean out the place and air freshener to neutralize the mouly smells in the corners. I need garden rakes and brooms, a big shovel and a wheel barrow, we are going to clean inside out and we are going to make the devil shout; I need board hammers and nails to keep the dogs behind the gate so meet me at the garden center before it’s too late.
We are all connected through time and space.
My sins and yours
By Michelle Morris
30/03/2023
I counted my sins
And they were like
The grains of rice
On the chessboard
On each square
They doubled up
Until they became
Infinite into the ethers
Too many sins
All linked by bloodlines
Starting from when
Humanity was born
All connected
One and all
We cannot stand back
And think we are untouchable
The distance between
My sins and yours
Are all in our ancestors
Only separated by forms
No one can judge
Another at all
For ultimately our sins
Are combined when we fall
© Michelle Morris, 2023
"Beauty Abounds"
I’m amazed when beauty abounds
In hearts and souls,
In written scrolls.
I get excited when I see a
A smiling face,
A lady in fancy lace.
I’m happy when I find
Little boys at play and
Little girls who make them pay.
I smile when the aged
Hold hands on evening strolls,
Sit in rocking chairs with no place to go.
I’m amazed at the beauty found,
In fields of clover, and patties of rice;
Sunflowers drenched in morning dew.
I’m mystified by blue skies,
And lightning strikes,
Thunderheads and twister tails.
I’m puzzled by war
And men of power
Who know not flowers.
I’m tired of hate,
Placed on our plates,
With no regrets.
I am perplexed.
I long for joy,
In all we do,
In all we see,
In all we be.
We are much better
When beauty abounds
And peace surrounds.
"Why be human? Why not Godly? Let's emulate Him"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Give few grains of rice to birds, a handful can feed many
In serving selflessly spend your day, all are a part of God though many
Verily God is everywhere, everything his manifestation
In helping others never shirk, you get back what is given
Never be negative, isn't everything created by Him
Graciously give for you are transient holder, all belongs to Him
Glorious God loves us unconditionally, has given so much free
Often we get egoistic, thinking all belongs to me
Delusion makes us forget God is the giver
Loss can happen any moment, we may become receiver
Yearn to share all you have, never be a hoarder
Grateful for the opportunity to serve, become a giving freak
Reap benefits of joy and peace, will get in abundance all you seek
Always smile, be positive and happy, when faith is firm nothing is bleak
Carefully lead your life, be good to all, don't sin
Everlasting bliss and joy will be yours if you treat all as kin
20.05.2021
Written for Giving Godly Grace contest by Regina McIntosh
Premier contest winner 8th position
Both pain and change remind us we’re alive.
(For this relief, much thanks.) All too aware
of failing strength, of haemorrhaging drive,
I look upon what’s left with blank despair.
Can knowledge offer solace, wisdom soothe?
I have to take the view that yes, they must:
although the road can not be flat or smooth,
the soul’s what separates us from the dust.
Koreans have a proverb, touching this.
The rice plant, when it’s young, keeps pushing up,
just like young men. Blind arrogance, the bliss
that’s born of bodily beauty, fills the cup
of pride. Life crushes, cows, and yet endows:
the rice attains its ripeness, and it bows.
For my days fall away
But I remember you
I want to touch the memories
I just don’t know what to say
As my days fall away
I vaguely remember the chicken pox
Colored popcorn
And my first grade made
Robotic cereal box
The hen and the fox
I remember wanting a fire truck one Christmas
The marble red paint
The glass window in which it stained
I remember my foster mom saying it’s this one or nothing
I remember being too stubborn to accept the smaller version
Its these memories I daunt
It’s these reflections that constantly haunt
These were the highlights of my life
These were the only happy moments I knew
Yet I left them, moments so few
I remember where the wild things are
I remember marshmallow peanuts
Trick or treating and roasted pumpkin seeds
I remember visitation days
The beach-less sand the way we as children once played
I remember the door that never closed
Mexican casserole and never getting enough
Being afraid to swim
Yet finding my way to the roof of the house
With no way of getting down
I remember my first field trip
The dinosaurs and wanting to be an astronaut
I remember my San Francisco 49ers jersey
Number eighty, jerry rice my favorite player
Now days I tend to only clash with the mayor
It seems that images follow a window of time
And after it’s exhausted
We summon them our memories
( This poem is about the ' Killing Fields' of Cambodia, 1975-79, where as many as 2 million people were murdered by the communist Khmer Rouge. I taught in Phnom-Penh from '73-74, and never met a people I liked more.)
They haunt me still,
the brown children laughing, always laughing,
the women voluptuous, languid,
their movement almost an invitation....
Even the traffic policeman:
crisp, clean, proud in uniform,
moving with ballerina grace
as hordes of cyclos and mopeds
and the occasional automobile
pirouette endlessly about him,
impatient bees made quiescent
by surreal beauty of white-gloved arms
cutting through thick tropical air....
Everywhere was grace, gentleness:
temples incandescent at dawn,
with ant trails of orange-robed monks
cradling their pot-belly begging bowls,
the patient women standing by the road
to lump rice into the begging bowls,
the monks always staring blankly ahead
as the women bowed low in reverence,
grateful their gift of life was taken....
And oh, how wondrous it was:
an accident in the street, yet no anger,
no bile--forgiveness, felt before thought,
thought before uttered....
How could such a people murder?
No, not murder-- slaughter!
Their mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles,
teachers, priests, friends and children too.
Change temples of peace into charnel-houses?
Schools of knowledge into abattoirs?
They photographed every butchered lamb,
like the devil's children on holiday,
and decorated the classroom walls,
a show-and-tell of horror and despair.
Why? Why?--
Why such pain on
such a gentle people?
Why did God hide His face
while the world turned its back?
Fifty,
fifty,
fifty
years
and still...
still they haunt me.
The following was based on an iconic picture of Mandy Rice-Davies by David Steen. Rice was infamous for being part of the 1963 Profumo political scandal.
The sun sets and so do inhibitions.
Rising even as darkness falls,
Vices murmur in cajoling tone;
Whispering of delights to behold;
Slinking and sliding like satin
Off a debutante's back,
Seemingly innocent,
As she gazes with baby blue wonder
Amidst fine white linen.
Wholly carnal expectations of the night
Play across lips that won't melt butter,
but can steam a man's thoughts,
and wring him dry with a breath.
Softest pink, slightly curved
They draw laser sharp focus
Of fantasies not fully formed.
The pose of an ingenue
Awaiting the brush strokes of Goya
to capture her pearlescence,
Or, perhaps, the lenses of Nemoy and Steen
(Or is it the lips of a lover?)
For a touch of immortality--
An angel from heaven
With a touch of the devil.
She is Temptation
Teasing with her bountiful fruits;
Coveting your visions.
She's every male fancy;
My passion's dark reality--
Captured.
There's a reason the fall of
Darkness is called Eve
-
Here is a link to the picture:
http://fp.famousfix.com/p32233192/mandy-rice-davies/p275266
MOST BEAUTIFUL LOVE
Barren rice fields, hungry heart; heels cracking dry ¬ thirsty soul part.
Face awaiting, every season, knotted aching old ~ new reasons...
Love! Oh Love! Written by God, crawl on us strengthen our grit.
Clanging cymbals, sounding gongs; monotone symbols, forgotten songs.
Magnetic face, probing the depths, soft gem breadth glorious grace.
Love, darling, you make me sing, awaking warm jolly spring!
Painter's brush ~ poetess deep crush; sight to blind ¬ mind to share... care?
I'll try to hop, heights of the hills, conquering fears as melting chill...
Nights are sunny, its love my sweet, 'cause of you always anew!
Diamonds flair, light on wrong; purity fair err, patience miles long.
old gnarled skin, weakening bones, brittle gray hair failing youthful tone. . .
Dear honey, you did atone, staying with me until the end.
Cinderella shoe¬ oceanic blue; dreams do come true, I love you.
Ice and fire, heaven and hell, collapsing match try to fight well...
Baby love, innocence smell, must I hasten or calmly hold?
(c) Olive Eloisa
4:04pm
July 08, 2014
CONTEST NAME: THE MOST BEAUTIFUL
SPONSOR: DEBBIE GUZZI
4th place, to God be the greatest glory..:)
Inspired by the Biblical Verse: I Corinthians 13
The temperature hit 94 degrees in Florida yesterday
which, in itself, is an alarming stat…
but the 90% humidity made it feel quite a bit hotter than that.
So why, in the midst of this Florida heat did we invite the family next door
to sit with us around a campfire so we could eat s’mores?
Because…not only was it a time to enjoy our neighbors
under the shade of our old oak tree…
but we needed that campfire to experiment with a new s’mores recipe.
Although toasting marshmallows, placing them hot on a Hershey bar
between two graham crackers is still a lot of fun
Deborah found a way to combine all three steps…into one.
To any skeptic out there…let me tell you what I mean…
She made Rice Krispie treats ahead of time…with a layer of chocolate in between.
It was a wonderful idea…although Deborah is not one for boasting…
A Rice Krispie treat S’more…once made all that’s left is for the toasting.
And toasting it was easy…to our mutual surprise
we only had to wait for the sugar on the outside to begin to caramelize.
Did it work? Could it be that this s’more…the old s’more replaces?
The proof was the marshmallow sticking to our hands…
and the chocolate on our faces.
We all applauded Deborah’s creativity…on her s’more ambitiousness…
because the new s’more she created was pure deliciousness.
And we all decided as we kept eating her S’more Rice Krispie treats…
It was worth a few minutes around the campfire in the steamy Florida heat.