Long Second person Poems
Long Second person Poems. Below are the most popular long Second person by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Second person poems by poem length and keyword.
A better friend I can never find
One so loving, caring and kind
Even though I let Him down
And cause His face to have a frown
He still loves me in spite of all that
And on my back He gives a pat
And says, "It's ok son, I still love you"
Most people know Him as a carpenter who was a jew
What makes Him different from others was the mission that He had
To please the Father in heaven, to make Him glad
By sacrificing Himself, so that we could be free
The second person of the Holy Trinity
Stripped of His glory to become like one of us
The wonderful counselor, His name is Jesus
He didn't care about the pain that He had to endure
Because His love for us was very pure
A crown of thorns was placed upon His head
He took our place on the cross and died instead
So that we could be free from the wages of sin
All we have to do is believe in Him
Believe that He died for our sins and rose again
Then we can all become born again
And spend our eternity with Him
In a place that is far from grim
It is true that no one has seen the face of Eternal God
Many has seen the second person of the Trinity
Eternal God’s only Son, Jesus or Father Christ
His image is everywhere in this world
It is on the face of the beggar by the side of the road
The wounded veterinarian
The homeless Mother and child
The mental patient
The prisoner
The needy of every country and culture
We know they are among us
We know that to love them is to do the will of Eternal God
Loving these marginalized people of our world is a daily challenge
For those of us blessed with health and security
Doing so brings Eternal God’s face into sharp focus
His love to perfection in us
Some people will make a plan from preconceived ideas
then they will observe to see if what they expect appears
when they don’t see what they expect they’ll look for something near
then they warp their own perspective to meet what’s wanted here
they don’t ask for a second opinion to avoid looking unsure
and they want all the credit should success be what’s in store
so they’ll progress thinking their best with confidence assured
but poor observation of the preconceived
fail as they are flawed
People who think then observe focus on their thoughts
shutting down external senses unaware of all
and they don’t really observe with specifics they look for
fearing weakness seeking praise their chances are obscure
These people are often self serving and without an ego
they don’t do anything in life thinking of other people
everything they ever do is an attempt to show they beat you
and build an image never failing to hide their insecure truth
They never really recognise the selfless are aware
taking in world seeing the moment that is here
using what they know is real when planning an idea
running it by someone else for thoughts they will hear
They aren’t looking to protect insecurities they fear
or desperate for the outcome proving their superior
whilst open to mistakes they make with benefits so clear
they will stand where bullets fly with bulletproof exterior
The first person hides away and wants to be perfection
the second person doesn’t hide they’re open to correction
the first person will live a lie and fear their own reflection
never learning to improve they’re friendly with rejection!
She was earthy, and her hands were hard.
Her fingernails were torn, as if she had just scratched her way
Out of a crypt.
Others shook their head ‘no’
Not allowing her to sit.
I recognized her as a gardener.
She was not a clean-up-nicely-every second person.
I motioned her to my table.
We had the best time.
She was funny, her stories kept me on the edge of my seat.
We laughed at the same things, and knew the same songs.
We were kindred spirits, earth woman and I.
I knew her instantly,
Recognizing my own Spring self.
She knew me by my openness.
We became fast friends.
Born together in another
lifetime, possibly.
Soul sisters
Best decision I ever made
was to let her in.
The Soup Is Down
Now is the winter of her discontent
It started since no soup was sent
Off into the ether, gone somewhere
I hope someone somewhere hears my prayer
Return her to her soup I beg
She cannot even get out of bed
her fix is needed straight away
She can’t go on another day
She sympathise with any addict
She is now cold turkey who could predict?
Please, please, she needs the good soup back
Her nourishment I know she lacks
She is wasting away before my eyes
Her family are scared tis no surprise
They cajole and tempt with nourishing things
But her soup is all they need to bring
Return her to it I beg you please
her family need her and off her knees
She will return to normal I know
When the soup returns you she will show.
Get well soon PD
I have just adapted an old poem for David Williams contest The soup is Down" I have changed it from 1st person to second person, he didn't like it I hope you do...
My desert I-land is a great place to be.
Would you care to peruse this brochure?
But even with the Bible and Shakespeare,
my eight favourite gramophone records,
and a limitless supply of needles,
not everything is kosher.
If you're feeling lonely, how about
me coming over to you-land,
or if you like, you can visit me-land
On second thoughts, I'd better visit you-land first,
As in the second person you can't tell nominative from accusative.
In any case, we can always practise the dative,
or conjugate in the first person plural.
We'll see I to I, I'm sure.
Then we can go on trips to him- and her-land,
and even to the continental them-land
(if you can stand the crowds).
But if you come over to me-land,
I'll show you all the tourist sights.
Don't believe those silly stories about swamps,
shark-infested bays, and so on. Lies, I tell you, lies!
Mind you, I can't promise fair weather all the time.
If the wind's in the wrong direction,
you might imagine you're getting the whiff
of an imaginary swamp. Lies, I say!
Can I interest you in a colour brochure?
Visit my sunny I-land--excuse the slip--visit me-land.
Some adjectives can be so possessive.
Envoi
There's no need to get tense
about the future.
After the conjugation
and--excuse my grammar--
things copulative are past,
and we are no longer active,
let us, the redundant,
decline in the imperfect,
and dream of a promised land,
beyond the gloaming,
where the sea ends in
the infinitive.
They are too foggy,
Dreams, visions, etc.;
I don’t know, I don’t remember,
but o’ wait!
Yes, a distinct memory.
I started remembering words
hoarse, dry words mixed
with the lemonade air.
a conversation?
The smell of heated leather
chains me to the patio
where the goddess sits.
I have lost faith in her,
no longer a goddess
but my birthmother.
The second person in this conversation.
'Bitter sweet or sweetly bitter',
asking the nicotine-filled air.
A head emerges through the smoke,
mingling with the lesser being.
She exhales pure ash
and stares, ocean to mildew eyes.
‘Bitter sweet.’
Why, I ached to ask her
but it refused to come out,
my lips a graveyard.
Fruit trees,
beautiful ones.
Aristaeus but never Eileithyia,
my mother.
Leaves and Vines blend with the
anger that my mother had,
not anymore
malt as its replacement.
I wanted to try her cigarette,
the one kissed tenderly by her two lips now.
My fingers turn
black.
Black as black can be,
emission at the seams of my nails
up to the pretty blonde strands of my mother’s hair.
I wonder, lips formed
to ask, maybe.
‘Mascara,’ she answers,
knowing the question
before it escaped my tongue
and ventured into her ears.
Because we are entwined, now,
black and volcanic
two minds, one body
no
two bodies, one mind.
I wince,
the band-aids refuse to help;
including the Arnold ones
I used to put on myself.
Bittersweet.
My cuts grow bigger
until it resembled the cracks of the earth;
and ate my blue bike
and the ghost house I used to live in,
her being the one to haunt them.
‘You blame,’
who says.
‘You lie,’
says the other.
Not a conversation anymore,
but furious eruptions,
ruinous pertinence.
It was calamitous and vulgar,
glorious culmination,
as it destroyed everything;
leaving nothing but cinder,
carried by the wind
up into the lemonade sky.
I can’t pay my life
No attention. How to pay attention?
A self-driven person. A narcissistic
What can I do? Can’t take care of
On my life. He is closed. A desire
I don’t know him. Maybe an alien
Stranger. My life. Different person
Driving me. I can’t control. The Will
My will. My wished life. My desire
I don’t pay with my life. Hell. Satan
Arrived. Light. Mine. Pay with life
With life. Lost. Help find. Lost love
Can’t pay attention. Dead life on
I can’t pay attention. Heavy my love
I want to switch off my second person
“You can’t,” said the second person.
I am a student. “Yes.” Said Satan.
I can’t pay my life
Paid. Said Satan
A cemetery
Pays lives
I can’t pay
My life
Paid
Love
Satan
I am
Hell
Guion Stewart Bluford Jr.
Most noted
(born November 22, 1942)
is an American aerospace engineer, retired U.S. Air Force officer
and fighter pilot,
and former NASA astronaut,
He who is the first African American
and the second person of African descent to go to space.
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
This is no much fun to know it’s so great
Bluford was selected to become a NASA astronaut in January 1978
As a part of NASA astronaut group 8.
Trained for a year
Officially designated as astronaut in August 1979
His technical assignments have included working with Space Station operations
In 2002, scholar Molefi Kete Asante listed Bluford on his list of 100 Greatest African Americans
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
Bluford left NASA and retired from the Air Force in July 1993 to take the post of Vice President/General Manager,
Engineering Services Division of NYMA, Greenbelt, Maryland.
a Corporation and in October 2000, became the Vice President of Microgravity R&D
and Operations for the Northrop Grumman Corporation.
He retired from Northrop Grumman in September 2002
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
to become the President of Aerospace Technology, an engineering consulting organization in Cleveland, Ohio.
Bluford was inducted into the International Space Hall of Fame
in 1997,[7] the United States Astronaut Hall of Fame in 2010 and the National Aviation Hall of Fame in 2019
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
Fly brother Fly up and beyond the heavenly skies
2/8/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©