Long Sharon Poems
Long Sharon Poems. Below are the most popular long Sharon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sharon poems by poem length and keyword.
Regardless of our faith, in Love we can believe,
For Love's within us all, if we choose to retrieve.
Should we choose to leave Love in a dormant state,
Then we invite into our heart the bitterness of hate.
Those who believe in the power of Love,
Radiate and spread around all the beauty of.
Those who deny Love to flourish within their heart,
Spread misery around, since it's all they can impart.
We have all been blessed with the greatest Gift,
Though some choose to away from Love, drift.
The presence of Love or not is always crystal clear
In how we treat others; how others we revere.
Love is not selfish, cruel, apathetic, unforgiving;
Does not embrace greed or a miserable way of living.
Instead, Love is selfless, compassionate, and kind,
With consideration for others a natural state of mind.
Love is not ego serving, boastful and bragging;
Doesn't tune out a guilty conscience nagging.
Instead, Love is humble, modest, and reserved;
Accountable and accepting of what's deserved.
Love is not jealous, envious, resentful, or bitter;
Nor shallow, spineless, a flip-flopping fence sitter.
Instead, Love cultivates virtue, values, and integrity,
Making real in oneself a comfortable place to be.
When, our Gift Of Love, we cultivate with care,
We then reap to scatter Love seeds everywhere,
Always hoping they'll take root in another's garden bed,
Where there's being tilled the opposite of Love, instead.
When in our hearts we grow Love, we never have to feel
Afraid that another will come along and from us, steal
What we are growing and therefore, in possession of,
Because all they can take from us is some of our Love.
Once in the thief's possession, Love can only grow,
Infiltrate and change the current seeds they sow.
So, when we give the Gift Of Love and without request,
We can know in our heart we have given the very best.
In this day and age of money taking precedence,
Love is still free to receive and to dispense.
Love cannot be bought nor can Love be sold,
Making the Gift Of Love untouchable by gold.
We need not save our Love for special times and places,
Just for special occasions and to gladden special faces,
For the magic of Love is released every time we give
And multiplies within us when the Gift Of Love we LIVE!
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2017-12-24 16:52:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
The cactus hoovers like a bully daring to be touched. Another cactus of a different type blossoms briefly.
The vegetable garden lies bare this year and wonders why. She doesn't understand that when I sometime grow weary, weak, and worn reaping such small tomatoes, I take a break.
The roses stand erect longing to be photographed. The Iris has had their say and returned for the season. The lawn was beautifully green a few weeks ago, but she looks at me now as she slowly turns brown and pleads for water, forgetting that in summer, I prefer brown, not green. I promised that I would keep her cut and trimmed, but not green.
The fruitless mulberry waves her leaves, standing ready for summer shade. The peony, who doesn't care for high temperatures, is feeling the May heat. I will inform her in a day or two that she will soon join her sister in a more desirous, suitable, and shady place and be transplanted into a large flower pot. She is thriving so well. I must not fail her as I did last year by not being dutiful and prompt enough to provide her a new home.
In back, the Rose of Sharon tree is begging to be noticed. Underneath the tall palms, the plums, peaches, and nectarines are showing signs of a bumper crop this year. Water is limited and scarce; but trees and plants are thriving, and life is shouting!
050521PSCtest, All Yours, Brian Stran
"Gardener Of Love"
I'm not rich with money
And be, I never will
For it's not a path I've chosen
Nor in my garden, till.
Other things matter most
And always will to me,
Things born of Love
Our eyes can never see.
Only a humble heart
Can in their heart sow
The seeds producing flowers
Of Love to then only grow.
There is no room for ego;
There is no room for hate,
Nor for greed and selfishness,
With Love inside a garden's gate.
When we plant the seeds of Love,
It's a priceless, worthy toil,
Since all opposing weeds
Are then banished from our soil.
All the weeds of traits
Upon which the ego feeds,
Will have nowhere to germinate,
Where Love is all that breeds.
As with any garden growing,
There's a need for rays of sun,
But too, there must be rain
For growing to be done.
As better gardeners we become,
We learn that toil and pain
We must endure and overcome,
If we hope to harvest gain.
When we fertilize with kindness,
With compassion and with care,
With empathy and forgiveness,
We'll have lots of Love to share.
As our garden grows in riches
That can't be by money bought,
Only those with weedy gardens will
Resent us for what they haven't got.
Blessings we tend to overlook
And not realised, hence, before,
Love gives us the vision to see
How blessed we are and more.
Then for our many blessings,
With gratitude, we garnish
Our garden with more beauty,
To polish, instead of tarnish.
In the process of our growing
We learn what matters most,
That humility and modesty
Trumps ego within us to host.
We learn money and possessions
Are at best barely secondary
And cultivating traits of Love
Are foremost, first, and primary.
We learn that contentment
And a peaceful state of mind,
Brings happiness and joy
That by money we can't find.
We learn that our wants
Become then less and less;
As long as our needs are met,
Our life reaps happiness.
When our needs are met
Is when we have enough;
Is when we feel contentment,
With no want for other stuff.
I'm not rich with money
And be, I never will
But my garden's rich with Love,
Since Love I choose to till.
I'm not rich with money;
It matters not to me,
For I'm a Gardener Of Love,
As God wants me to be.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-09-28 11:48:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
The only woman I ever loved gives joy and love, For I have met and loved other women but not with such satisfaction I feel now. For she turns a dark day bright and shares a smile that brings life to a withering rose, if only her parents knew they would have called her Rose because she is my Rose of Sharon. Give me love my angel for today we joined in one, let us rejoice in our love and strengthen our bond in marriage.
Days, weeks, months pass and my love is still strong and sharper than any double edged sword. We on the second year now, why the sudden change. Our usual routines fade with the honeymoon phase, no more cuddling its now frequent quarreling. Is marriage like this? Love fades now its reality; she comes late at night and leaves early in the morning. The home once full of love now lays with sorrows.Donot know who to blame but myself for I ran before I could walk and landed before I could fall and now everything is vivid we jumped into marriage leaving us livid.
Everything changes I do not feel at home anymore, because home is where the heart is and for now my heart is wondering. I start feeling at home at pubs, for it is there where I drown my sorrows. Nightfall becomes my joy for I know the bar calls and sorrows are drowned. I now long for body warmth for in bed we now like Siamese twins joined by our backs.
Usual routine at the bar two three beers a woman approaches, she speaks with persuasion, have I found love at the bar or is it the alcohol taking its course? She whispers in my ear all through the night. She then leads me away like a bull led for slaughter.
Morning and everything is bleak but I feel body warmth, had I partaken in the act of love with the mystifying woman. Suddenly she awakes; she smiles and demands she be reward for her participation in the act. It then hits me, is she the thorny rose that wilts other roses, the lady of the night that brings gloom. I glance around the room; nothing strikes me as a condom. Does that mean I partook in the act of love with the lady of the night without protection?
Has my marriage lead me to death, It seems death is now soon to be my destiny. For I know with the ladies of the night comes the devil's advocate.
And now that the curse of my marriage
She was one of the reasons I lived and now she is the only reason I'm dying...
Form:
Last call for alcohol, embargo
on the cargo headed for Fargo?
Bootlegging articles of?
"ConfederationNow",
Boot logger, droned Over all? Foggered... Froggers, sprawled. Farms attacked by competing vows. ++
Blood drained Cows.
Imagine, Gaia hype- our brainwashing, a
sacrifice to a Paul Bunyan Nephilim type, "Savior" moonshining wormwood tea in exchange for Sheep. Believing them to be. Stoned blind in Texas, right wing.
Liquid Media medicinals, points for eveyone West of, Diagonal the Allegheny, best of show, suggestion,
allegiant, allegory. (Oh...allegedly.)
As The King of the North fights zombies that believe the Game of Thrones just fantasy. Conspiracy_ Storytellers of propagandolf, minds of Sauron to keep
eyes Wide-Shut. By Aristocracy.
To "pass" on the proof of those stoned blind in Texas, shekeled, bought, brought a Rose, of Sharon,
from Ticked Karen's, in their own Eden.
Those non-Citizens,
"Christians of the un-Enlightened" l"unacy of Old',
thoughts? NoahmadicHeathens!
Of the tide turning; going South.
The dark side of the moon,
a journey scape of wet dreams in swoon.
To partake the half empty side of drink.
Salt of thirsts.
Cup of wrath of the Directional Winds.
A piracy bloodbath of Nationhood in martyred demarcation zones.
Cusp of swilling blood of the swill,
Apocalyptic feel, fills,
notes of the unveiling of the Whore who Rides the Beast on the Seven Seas. Leviathan is leavened,
rising, ready to eat.
Now, there is censorship on speech on the internet,
then is, when, is then en-Tyrely.
The Gatekeepers at Fallens keep,
keeping freedom, voices "Crying in the Wilderness"',
Peeps out of reach.
Accept for Government (entities) with algorithms, keyloggers, identity id thieves, imagers of the Beast.
Spell binders binding
their articles-of-New-World-Sourcery-Cheaping-Rumpelstiltskin-Seamstitchery-Tailoring-Truth- blinding-digital-mining-slaves for the Wolves,
Kings of the East, Trading Company.
Trading souls for an hour with the Beast.
On the first day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the second day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the third day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the fourth day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the fifth day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the sixth day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Six dodgy jumpers,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the seventh day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Seven cuddly creatures,
Six dodgy jumpers,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the eighth day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Eight pairs of knickers,
Seven cuddly creatures,
Six dodgy jumpers,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the ninth day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Nine TV specials,
Eight pairs of knickers,
Seven cuddly creatures,
Six dodgy jumpers,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the tenth day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Ten hours of nagging,
Nine TV specials,
Eight pairs of knickers,
Seven cuddly creatures,
Six dodgy jumpers,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the eleventh day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Eleven scented candles,
Ten hours of nagging,
Nine TV specials,
Eight pairs of knickers,
Seven cuddly creatures,
Six dodgy jumpers,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
On the twelfth day of Christmas my loved ones gave to me,
Twelve tons of chocolate,
Eleven scented candles,
Ten hours of nagging,
Nine TV specials,
Eight pairs of knickers,
Seven cuddly creatures,
Six dodgy jumpers,
Five gift vouchers!
Four board games,
Three CDs,
Two girly books,
And a plate of turkey butties.
Sharon Bell
Do i have to first change my name to
Poet Destroyer to top the list,
Or add my all three names like
Carol Sunshine Brown to come second?
Is it wearing sun glasses like Andrea Dietrich
In my profile picture that mandates me,
Or welcoming Soup freshers like SKAT-LOVE does
To be in the top four?
What does it really take?
Is it all about the P enclosed in the yellow star
Like the top threee?
Really?
What about suZ-D who is number 98 with that gold P,
Did she not harmonize her name like
Charmaine Chircop who is on 20
What does it really take?
Should i say its all about being a lady
To be in the top nine?
Or else its because in poetry men come number ten?
If so
Thanks to Vince Suzadail Jr. who made it there
And our own hero Becca Lucas who sealed the 100
Does it really take that?
Should i say its all about the profile picture?
Then i would have an answer for sharon weimer
who came on number 11
Would Carolyn Devonshire say i am right on that?
I dont think so not our number five
Then what is it all about?
Should i say its all about the US flag?
If so then thats why Linda-Marie SweetHeart came on number 6
But what about Robert A. Dufresne who is below
Vicky Tsiluma a Kenyan?
On that One has P and the other lacks a photo
I got it the former has no photo
So am i right then?
That to be on this list you must not be from Africa?
No at last i disagree with my view
Because Wilma Neels is on number 38
And…99 Adeleke Adeite
At least that's kind of fair
To Africa
So do i have the answer i wanted?
No. Nott until i went back to my poems
And made a great discovery
These are the same people
Who put ink on my poems
These are the people i read their poems
And i curse my mother for feeding me
With pumpkins
These are the poets we all treasure
The famous 100
who deserve to be on the wall of fame
Even now i guess they are the people
That will drop comments on This
As others read, get bored and walk a way cursing my master piece
Not caring about Killing my dreams of becoming 101
I think that's why my all links have that number
101 love poems from Rodgers Roger
Yet i posted an elegy
These are the book worms
That know punctuation better
And can determine a right type of their poem
These are the ones who never post stuff like
,./;'' am trying ';./=/
Friends used to say like an elephant I never forget
these days I have the memory of a goldish or amoeba
often find myself staring blanking into the fridge
wondering what I am doing there, what I’m looking for
The building that once housed each of my living moment
Sometimes like a faulty computer recycles information
It is there, somewhere, just takes longer to be accessed
Like my missing utensils, its all stored in some kind of bin
It’s that thing, you know that thing, that thingamajig
then I discover what it is called, oh it one of them
well, who uses a tea strainer anyway these days
Or people’s name who I know well
‘Oh there’s you know who, what’s her name again
If I’m lucky something about her will bring it back
That actor, the one being interviewed on Lorraine
Who is he again? come on Jude, you know who he is
after a few minutes of intense brain activity, it hurts
right in the centre of my forehead
Oh yes that’s Phil Mitchell, him off Eastenders
married to Sharon, has a son called Ben
In conversation a random word erupts without a thought
bearing no vague relation to what I have been talking about
metaphors and other over used sayings come out all mixed up
the early bird gathers no moss, why cry over spilt milk
you can save it for a rainy day, get what I’m trying to say?
Walking round the shop hoping for a visual clue on the shelves
there is one thing I know I desperately need but what can it be
as always I have forgotten the darned shopping list at home
then as I open the door on my return, it comes rushing back
loo rolls that’s what it was, kitchen towel will have to do
………….. if I need the loo
History is very often reconstructed when I retell it
Churchill met his Waterlo
Thanks to Google, I can search for useful facts and information
Talking of technology, as an aide memoire Alexa is great
When I ask her what the weather is like today, she’ll say
The Prime Minister is Theresa May, I’m none the wiser
in fact more confused, back in the day I’d just pop outside
The alarm I set on the to remind of some important event
thinking the mobile phone yes that will not let me down
next thing I know the alarms just gone off, its two days late!
Yep, I had set the wrong time and date!
When we plant our gardens, we plant what we wish to grow,
Like vegetables and flowers are the seeds of we sow.
Then we tend to our gardens, nourishment, we feed,
Because we wish to reap the good from every little seed.
We do not plant in mind to destroy our garden bed.
We plant to bring forth fruit of good seeds, instead.
Part of our role as gardener is to watch for toxic weeds
Growing to rob our garden of all that our garden needs.
We do not plant our gardens with seeds that are destructive,
Because we know good seeds are the only seeds productive.
There would be no point at all or any valid, sane reason
To grow a garden where good fruits would not come into season.
As we grow our gardens we know they need sunshine and some rain;
We know some hard work involves some hardships bringing pain.
Yet, still we persevere through times our hope is in a drought,
If our faith in God is strong enough to keep the devil out.
In our hearts as well we grow a garden to represent our life
And what we plant and nurture both with joy and strife,
Produces fruit and flowers in our character and deeds
Or our garden is a place that produces only bitter weeds.
We each have a garden we must tend to, care for, cultivate.
As the gardener we decide what we grow, what we propagate.
We tend not others' gardens, only the garden of our own.
As the gardener we're responsible for what we grow, alone.
If with our garden we are lazy, with tending, negligent,
Our character will reflect our lack of time and effort spent.
Bitter weeds of darker traits and hate then begin to grow
And our garden's beauty fades away for the pride of our ego.
If we tend to and till our garden with tender loving care,
Our garden will bloom vividly with lots of Love to share.
Should a seed of Love land and grow in a bed filled with weeds,
Perhaps, the gardener of will then see what their garden needs.
So, if we choose to garden and plant seeds of Love,
Tend to our garden carefully with the same fruits of,
We can rest assured our garden will have worth and beauty,
Which our character will reflect for keeping with our duty.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-05-09 03:00:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
P S its POETRY WRITE ON WRITE ON CONGRATS TO MY FELLOW POETRY SOUPERS PART 13
Many thanks to you selected poets; Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it; Each letters and each word; Reads so very dear and well; Joys of your souls cheers; Covenants of choice, reading your voice; Blessing peace be still; Please keep writing your skills; Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S. Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers
Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it; Each letters and each word; Reads so very dear and well; Joys of your souls cheers; Covenants of choice, reading your voice; Blessing peace be still; Please keep writing your skills; Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S. Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers
Kudzai Mhangwa 439
Kudzai Mhangwa 439
L Milton Hankins 357, 369
Laura Gail Sweeney 374
Laura Leiser 6
Laurie Mahoney 199, 394
Lawrence Gene Ingle 331
Lewis Raynes 307
Liliya Zagorski 376
Line Monique Gauthier 258, 316, 85
Lisa Ayers 385
Lisle Robert Dudley Ryder 343
Lucy Wangari 267
Lycia Harding 104, 188, 58
M. Braimah Saaka 247
Maja Malhotra 362
Malabika Ray 134
Malisha Hansani 257
Marcella Raven Brianne Poynter 394
Margaret Franceschini 275
Maria Sharon Moemise 388
Mark Anthony Bartolo 289, 291, 444
Mark B. Peterson 162
Mark Goldstein 211
Mark koplin 236, 259
Mark Massey 124, 192
Mark Pringle 13
Mark R Toney 286, 339
Marnie Portland Johnson 188
01/05/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©