Long Seconds Poems
Long Seconds Poems. Below are the most popular long Seconds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seconds poems by poem length and keyword.
the roaring sound rejuvenates my heart
wind whips,
bells tinkle,
flag flaps
thought i
needed to change
into shorts
but my
just bare feet,
thin sweater blue jeans
perfect
for this early Spring blustering
lilliputian tweets and vroom beats
such temperate tempest jubilation
lifts my spirits
if
the sea were involved
with
its swanky salt I’m seconds away
from
the pearly gates
In the quiet moments of a world apart,
Where distance stretches thin the thread of time,
Two hearts beat in synchrony, a work of art,
In realms where age and miles seem to entwine.
Our love is an echo from distant lands,
Where the hours stretch wide, a horizon's line.
Yet in the spaces between our yearning hands,
A melody of hope, sweet and divine.
Your voice, a compass, guides me through the night,
Though thousands of miles paint the sky with doubt.
In the silence, your whispers shine so bright,
A beacon of truth, erasing all rout.
Years may carve lines on faces with their grace,
But age is a number, not a chain or cage.
Your wisdom is a mirror I embrace,
Reflecting a love that defies the age.
Our moments together are brief but deep,
Like stardust that falls in a fleeting dream.
In those seconds, my soul's secrets seep,
And nothing else is quite as it may seem.
In the realm of the heart, where distance is a mere breath,
Our love is a promise, unshaken by time.
It’s a tapestry of joy woven from faith,
A dance of the spirit, eternally in rhyme.
Every letter, every call, a thread in our tale,
Building a bridge from my heart to yours.
In this dance of days where time might fail,
Our connection remains, steadfast and pure.
The world may change, and seasons may flow,
But my love for you will never wane.
In the finite moments, where forever grows,
I cherish you, through joy and through pain.
So let the world turn, and let the years slip away,
For in you, I find my endless day.
In the language of love, both gentle and grand,
Together we stand, hand in hand
I loved you so much
And I wanted you to stay
But I just wasn’t brave enough
To wait to see your face
I let fear get a hold of me
I took the coward way
I knew deep down that it was wrong
But I didn’t turn away
I lay down on the table
I opened up my legs
He pushed his hands inside me
I couldn’t hide my tears
He asked, ‘do you want me to stop?’
I slowly shook my head
I heard the vacuum come on
Seconds later you were dead
The blood pooled all around me
A reminder of my sin
My precious baby was now gone
I’d never see you again.
I’m sorry, please forgive me
Is all that I can say
I feel so very guilty
I took your life away.
I know you’re up in heaven
With Jesus close to you
Please ask Him to forgive me
I really did love you
Every artist knows
Their canvas is not complete
Without a pop of passionate red.
Every stop sign knows
They will not be honored
If they are not the right color
The flag would be blah if it was only blue and white
If you look at the world flags, most have courageous red.
The Irish have a form of it in their orange.
Glossy blue-red lipstick gives us a feeling of the fifties
When women hid their blatant sexuality
Saving it in the bedroom, when they turned into hungry tigresses,
Tearing their men apart with pure sensuality
Restaurants use joyful red lavishly, understanding she encourages eating.
Unsuspecting victims devour food at rapid pace, taking home seconds.
Children see red and think of the circus, popcorn, or a fire engine.
Excitement, pizazz, a happy ending to a blah day.
Red was once the color of an angry old-maid teacher’s pen.
My theory is that she was no tigress
because she had no man in her bedroom.
Red is for the passion, sensuality, and warmth.
Red is for sexuality and pizazz.
“Have a good day always with God’s precious blessings!”
…Awesome message of triumph-anchored fervency...
Thankful for time of satisfaction's ecstasy
I have delightful hours of jubilant musings!
Sundays do enrapture me by praise-filled worship
Around fellowship-bond and Scriptures' steadfastness…
…Gearing Mondays’ pursuits of servant’s fruitfulness
Within joyful harmonious work-relationship!
On Tuesdays are routinely chores needing glow’s might
Midst smiting trials challenging my victor’s stand;
Wednesdays give respite from grievous pressures’ demand
Thru faith-driven plight toward peaceful distress-flight!
With Thursdays’ busy schedule and assignments
Divine interventions become marvelous grace
As for Fridays’ rush hours to hurdle the tough race
Coping styles work marvels in harsh engagements!
Saturdays end weeks with productive toils’ harvest
Knowing that all has been done beyond the utmost;
Though crises attack, they’re handled at prayer's cost
What matters is I spend seconds with my strength’s best!
Thus, fulfilling God's design drives my faith upward
When His granted moments are optimized indeed
That soon will create reminiscences to heed
On love-powered service as His faithful steward!*
*Luke 12:42 And the Lord said, Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his lord shall make ruler over his household...
Dear God,
Thank you so much for blessing me with good days by Your grace... Keep me trusting you while praising you for loving me, giving me Your Son Jesus Christ Whom I trust to have eternal life. I pray that you help me become a blessing to someone today, as I strive to share your Gospel for others' salvation. In Jesus' name, Amen.
September 4, 2018
10th place, "Enclosed Rhyme - September, 2018" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart, a.k.a. Broken Wings; judged on 9/29/2018.
Anesthetized, day one, I become her bug caught in the web
Asphyxiated, entangled and cursed, numbed to feel no pain
It was a Wednesday if I remember when we wed
She grew a beard and punished me for breathing
I succumbed to her femininity, her tooth
It was a pretty one to chew with. That's the truth!
It was a Thursday in the second day of Lent
It took seconds for my bank account to empty
Her power of persuasion left me blank
A testament to her awesome empty nest to come
Three days into marriage we finally went to bed
Precious consumed my brain and everything within it
Who needs condoms when you have your condiments
Mustard , ketchup, cheese and crackers please
When you don't have long to live you snack instead
Day four, she put me on a lease to walk outdoors
Dogs and cats make better pets than spiders
Sentimental to the end she took my soul and sold it
I succumb to her because she is my wife
Not because she held a butcher knife
By day five she grew fat, sprang eight legs
Became a nag, that's only natural they say
I'm not afraid of anything that screams at me
Because she says so
I wish six days a week to be united
Or at least to live another day intact
It is not wise to question honey's facts
Seven days in love must be our lucky number
Marital bliss numbs me to my knees
I survived to kiss the bride another day
It must be time to say Good Bye.........
Eight days a week I feel the love inside
Eight legs wrapped around my spine
A tingling sensation, sentimental spider
Before I die, before you eat my mind again my love
The alimony check is on the table, post dated for your pleasure
Don't get pregnant. Use protection
For your convenience before I forget
I will always be your prey before your friend
I pray you don't get indigestion
He was not impressed.
God knew the number of hairs on his head.
Did that include his beard if he ever grew one?
He would ponder this and other such anomalies of faith.
Why would a Supreme Being care about numbers,
or sparrows falling from the sky, or follicle formations?
Perhaps we were given a number at conception
engraved into our spiritual destiny? Did the number
follow us in death, or were positions changed
by Karmic endeavor and final placements rated
by lifetime achievements or failures?
On his ninety third birthday he received a card.
It showed how many seconds, minutes, hours,
days, months and years he had lived.
He pondered the meaning and worth of such information.
How could you measure Oct 26, 1963 against any other day?
And why would you? Was death, or life, just a numbers game?
A competition? A Cosmic Reality Show? A spiritual ratings contest?
He remembered fewer days as he got older.
Settled for snapshot glimpses of sunshine and snowflakes,
Nameless, yet familiar, smiles beckoning him
toward an un-numbered future.
He was not impressed
for he knew that God knew.
©2/10/2023
Writing Challenge – E Words Poetry Contest
Blood thirsty carnivore that does not back down
On this ridge day and night, I sit and lie in wait
Hungry as the beast of my soul lies inside my chest
Forgetting the pain of the hunger of yesterday and yesteryear,
Upon thy prey I shoot out and bite with all my teeth in a gathered smile
Counting the minutes and then the seconds until all your red cells flow into my mouth
Kings back down from helping you as your soul leaves thy flesh, as the flesh fills my body
Your flesh, blood and bones becomes the protein in my blood, flesh, and bones
On the contrary, the meat from your entire body has done its purpose, and it has feed mineth body
Your still the excrement that comes from my bowels and gets gathered by the beetles whom eat dung
No voice is whispered in the void
Explosions inside the nest of stars
Ignite into the operas of the galaxies
Noiseless vacancies full of mysteries
Evolve, remain as vacuous as they are
Space, bridled by the fire balls of debris
To be explored once in the field of vision
That seem to come from nothing
Gone nova moving forward over eons
That follow in the open cosmic sea
Alternate universes yet to be observed
The ones with six dimensions or more
Vacuums pouring out pure particles
Emptying into something still to be determined
Into the unknown as wide as real as motion
To be defined, farther out in space
Farther than the mind can comprehend
Sounds that can't be embraced or heard
Out there, distances between the planets
Is enormous, before and after they are gone
So long measured in the calm before the storm
Reality is not mentioned here or there
Since there is no reference point to find
Too close for comfort as worlds collide
We resolve to change existence while in orbit
Bridged by alternate universes where planets rise
Stars go nova all the time
Elastic in an ocean of provocateurs
In the minus hours of creation
Jagged stones became much smoother
Edges compress in their rotations on
Filled in with shape and form
Earth was born in orbit
Weather forces wear down rocks
One size fits the planet well in gravity
Profound and rounded in ways too hard
To understand or simplify in cosmic terms
Conditions to strange to fathom circumstances
Or describe as fiction from long distances
More ovals on the horizon grow
Escape velocity stretched to the limits
On the elliptic mist where history lives
Rocks expand into the planets heavens
This all happens in split seconds over time
To fall all together from the sky to where we are
In every instant that can be conjectured on
Thought, as reality unfolds back on itself
Where it all began in silent matter conjured up
In the void, there is no noise
Space listens to questions postulated
Over distances filled in by vacancies
“You’re a daisy if you do.”
Doc Holliday
ITs THREE O CLOCK AND ITs O K
the local joke
a triple homicide
in thirty seconds
can see pale faces
through the coffin glass ~
too many face consequences
Wyatt, Morgan, Virgil, Doc Holliday,
spray bullets and jargon
at the famed Cowboys
Billy Clanton, Tom and Frank McLaury ~
pushing up daisies
buried at Boot Hill
it’s grave
Holliday and the Earps
will have to answer
for their fame
Big Nose Kate, the local prostitute
slept with Doc
and Sheriff Wyatt had his common law
wife - she kept her life private ~
Tombstone, Arizona infamous!
3/9/2023