Long Spats Poems
Long Spats Poems. Below are the most popular long Spats by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spats poems by poem length and keyword.
THE CONCERT
The members of the orchestra had each gone to his chair;
The audience was waiting now for the conductor there.
And when he stepped on to the stand, applause was heard, and then
He lifted up his white baton and music soon began.
It started out quite beautiful, each person played his part,
But soon some went on their own way; they thought they were
more smart.
Some put their music on the floor and stopped playing at all,
While others stared around the room at all the lights and walls.
Some started playing other tunes, some played too sharp or flat,
Some even talked among themselves, some even got in spats!
The leader was beside himself, not knowing what went wrong,
For he had planned this concert night for oh, so very long.
And now he was embarrassed by the actions of the band;
He tried to calm confusion there by raising up his hand.
The members of the orchestra just went their separate ways
Each thinking they were doing right with music they did play.
The audience was quite disturbed, for what they came to see
Was surely not a show like this confusing, sad melee!
This story is a parable of Christendom today:
We started out as one in Christ, but each went his own way.
Denominations, sects, and cults, all claiming to be right,
But all they do is disagree on everything and fight.
We can’t agree which Bible is God’s word for us today;
We can’t agree on how to sing and sometimes how to pray.
We can’t agree on baptism, security, or gifts;
It’s sad to see how very far from early truths we drift!
And some have even now denied the basic gospel truth
That many died for in those days of the church’s early youth.
They say that Jesus was not God, the blood was not required,
Or say that there are other books that God has now inspired.
They say that hell is just the grave, that Mary is the way,
That purgatory is a place where we could go someday.
Yes, many doctrines have crept in; just like that concert hall,
It’s hard for many to believe there’s any truth at all!
Yet our Conductor wants us back! We have a job to do!
If we would follow as He leads, what impact we could view!
It’s time we got back to the Lord, Conductor of our life,
And put away these selfish ways and arguments and strife!
It’s time to come back to God’s word, not ideas of man,
And follow our Conductor, Christ, and trust His guiding hand!
Chasing The American Dream Part1
The wonders of social media and its different applications ...
They allow everyone to make reconnections and link up broken communications...
Recently through the ever pervasive hphone What's app application...
Chanced upon a long lost childhood acquaintance while in primary education..
Going back 50 years or thereabouts, we were school kids so care free...
School was something we had to do going by our respective parents' decree...
Classmates were aplenty when we were that little and so carefree...
Being that many, some were invariably great company and others were on the periphery...
Now that this generation of us are all pushing 60, greying and decidedly growing old...
Facebook and What's app are some social media aids we indulge among friends so old...
Little wonder we are like scattered oats, prospering all over the globe...
Many of us are already dotting GrandParents and savoring our golden years...
A few adventurous souls have conquered distances, seas and the oceans...
They are no longer residing here in Bolehland, the motherland where they were born....
These adventurous ones are now Australians, Singaporeans and one is even in Kiwiland...
And of course, a few are living the American Dream, lapping it up in the Land of the Free...
Now, at the present moment in history, Bolehland here is far from rosy...
Our currency, thankfully it is stabilised temporarily, has fallen considerably...
The political situation is a tumultuous one with frequent spats of public bickering...
The ruling party appears less than satisfactory and perceived to be corrupted and less than worthy...
The common people, the rakyat, are understandably far from happy....
From the onslaught of removed subsidies, new taxes and heightened cost of living ...
So things are far from rosy here in Bolehland, very much unlike the fabled American Dream...
Where freedom reigns to provide golden opportunities of revelling in the American Dream...
So here's the glaring difference, Bolehland here is sliding down a slippery slope of economics...
While far beyond the horizon, the Trump administration is working towards making America Great Again...
What a difference...
ye that loveth might she love me
for then might I rejoice
Oh thee oh lover come be with me
lift my spirt with your voice
sooth and say then ye my lover
il the sunrises be with me.
say you love me, our love eternal
the ring I bearest, to symbolize
oh my lover to be my wife
that might represent the best
of love
ooh sing me perfect, as your husband
so the world can hear our voice.
when spats and disagreements
have us troubled
might we stand.
we'll stand together unified
to talk it over, and troubles gone
the due diligence of what
has chored to earn
Contraito and Tenor reherst
Masculine Fiance
Feminine Fiancee
" in Cooperation"
respect our , needs, and wants
respect of person
not to shame
that we stand as lovers
with conscious gain we shall marry
to pure perfection
non shall stand to denounce
as I take your hand as
my true love
say the vows to kiss
my wife
hallelujah, glory, glory
glory to your new name
glory, glory alleluia
glory to
your new name!
We met so long ago,
We were just two teen kids.
You stole my innocence and I yours,
And my heart you've always kept hid.
We both have moved on,
We both have came back.
We will always have a hold on each other,
Our love will never stop as a matter of fact.
People have come and gone,
Friendships built and torn apart.
But together nothing can phase us,
No matter what we always have a fresh start.
You still give me butterflies,
When I see you my stomach flip flops.
I feel so safe held in your arms,
These feelings I never want to stop.
With each other its comfortable,
Sure we have our spats and fights.
In the end our hearts melt the anger,
We kiss make up and hold each other tight.
Our hearts have always told us,
We were always suppose to be together.
There has been times we've hardly talked,
We both tried to move on our love had been severed.
I would never change what's happen,
No regrets just history.
We understand each other,
Our love is strong there's no mystery.
People think we shouldn’t be together,
We're no good for each other we should find better.
We've tried that and failed we're made for each other,
Without you the tears fly my eyes couldn't get any wetter.
I can forgive you for everything you’ve done,
Forget is another story you know me.
But everything is out weighed when we touch,
I get lost in your lips from that I'll never be free.
I don’t care what people say when they talk about us,
We are in love with each other have been for many years.
I see all the changes you are making for me,
I love you more for that and my eyes cry happy tears.
I'm excited to see what's going to happen,
Together we can both be a better person.
I've tried to hid it but I cant fight it,
Stealing my heart adds to everything you were my first in.
You know how to make me smile and laugh,
You know how to make me mad and a *****.
Unfortunately you know how to make me cry,
But your kiss will always solve and make the feelings switch.
We both have so much still to work on,
And our hearts still tell us to give it a try.
I cant wait to see where this journey will take us,
We love each other that’s all that counts our limit is the sky.
Form:
Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota,
And the Sioux,
Choking for a breath of life's sustaining air,
Smothered beneath the white man's blanket.
The beating heart of native drums, are stilled, frozen
In the middle of it's rhythmic thumping, no pauses echo,
Can be heard on the open plain.
The weeping woman kneels, on sacred ground, she sheds
A river of bleeding tears, burning a permanent mark, across
A baron landscape.
Death's black raven shields itself, under it's crimson soaked wing,
Against shames moral injustice, humanity's inhumanity, towards it's
Own kindred.
The final verdict of the white man's justice, based on nothing more,
Than skin color, difference of beliefs, and sheer ignorance.
Extermination, nay a holocaust, greed fever, drives the white demons.
How much blood can mother earth be forced to drink, before
She drowns herself, or spats up everything, with sheer
Disdane, and hatreds malice.
Treaties written in vanishing ink, promises disappear in thin air,
Revealing a liars sharpened tongue.
The odds have always been stacked against those believing
In fairness.
Flights appendages are clipped, on the dove of peace, leaving it
Unable to soar above it's own habitat.
Wreckage’s refugees stumble, in the ruins after math,
Rapes victims of civilizations civilized,
Are left devoid of their heritages legacy.
Elders chieftains representatives of a once great nation,
Smoke peace pipes in the white mans hunting lodge, in Washington,
As human beings are hauled like cattle's cargo,
Taken to reservations burial grounds.
Ancient ancestral beings, lit up heaven's vast expanse, by torches flame,
To guide the souls of the dead, unto their great spiritual plain beyond.
The pale horse gallops forward, without a rider,
And the red people become a phantom tribe, vanishing
Upon the winds shifting tides.
Giving one last final battle war cry,
Why my father but the great spirit answers not.
Behold America's legacy, a world trampled beneath
It's heavy feet, all in the name of progress, or for the cause
Of Manifest destiny.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Why does the heart get all the credit for love?
By so-called affairs of the heart,
that most storied of organs is not unduly inconvenienced.
It beats,
now faster, now slower,
that is all, its task ever unvaried.
But the brain.
The brain is swarmed
by a scream of consciousness,
the amount of work that lands on its desk
swollen by an epidemic of incoming data
as body-wide receptors caffeinated by intimations of love
report frequent sightings of
unexampled beauty followed by euphoric contacts.
Every signal, real or illusory, is taken into custody and interrogated
to determine its authenticity or duplicity.
Every word is a code that needs to be deciphered with a
clear-eyed detachment it can no longer muster.
Every look is transferred to the left side
for facial-contextual-inferential analysis but often hijacked by the right
for the purpose of aesthetic appreciation.
Every scent is identified and catalogued with
a perfumer's olfactory precision.
There are hints to catch,
spats to be postmortemed,
crucial dates to be inoculated against amnesia,
preferences to be recorded, compared, grafted,
model answers to catch-22 questions drafted,
declarations of adoring allegiance crafted.
The subject’s mind is apparently required to be read,
two sets of past, present, future to be crossbred,
blindness to other females pled.
There are virtues to exaggerate to divine proportions,
flaws to modify to virtues with willful distortions,
desires to mollify by counseling patience,
thoughts to be felt,
feelings to be thought,
vertigo to be fought.
Still the to-do list grows,
the repairing of an attention that no longer spans,
the mistaking of what happens to millions of others daily
as a unique personal miracle,
the confusing of being loved with being special,
the projecting of an untested passion into an eternity,
the steadying of feet that has taken to walking on air,
the murdering of ballads meant to be trilled,
and the admonishing
of that nonchalantly speeding heart
to be still.
I think friendship breakups are so weird—
From belly laughs and soul-deep chats, moonlit strolls and silly spats,
Yet another slip and the thread of camaraderie is severed,
casting shadows upon the remnants of what once thrived.
You think I do not care,
when, evermore, I was the first to be there,
not for laurels, nor reconciliation sought,
but for the girl whom I most adored.
The love of our ways lingers in the air,
a timeless bond whispers through our songs.
Tears gather like silent raindrops,
reflecting the unspoken sorrows of my heartstrings,
which begin to strum with the memories of our everlasting love.
You say I have everything,
You say I stole what was once yours,
But here I am, hiding behind closed doors.
I’m trying to escape the echoes of you,
but whispers pull me back into the same pain.
I can't breathe; I'm gasping for air,
anticipating betrayal, like poison in the air.
The knife never left my back—it remains,
turning my world to darkness, drowning in pain.
I’m blinded by everyone else's emotions,
suppressing my pain to aid your wounds,
emptying myself in the process.
I gave you everything, only to be left in freefall.
I didn’t think our friendship was ending,
but the sharp pieces keep us from mending.
You cannot see from my point of view,
so as you sit there with the image that I do not care,
I will sit here, glad I made it out.
Overanalyzing every angle,
the nights when confusion consumed me,
wondering how I kept sparking the flames of fury
that smoldered deep within your soul.
I know it wasn’t my fault,
I know you were still learning,
but you crossed the lines we once drew,
turning our bond into something untrue.
Our friendship didn’t implode over a single drunken night;
it unraveled because I ran out of the will to fight.
The once-blazing flame of camaraderie has now dimmed,
but even though we sailed off course,
navigating this storm of life together—
however briefly—
remains, without question, my favorite chapter.
On the corner of Short con and Long play
sits the neighborhood ponies man
in his pickup van,
waiting to take parlay list deliveries
Feeling leisurely ... not wanting to bounce
on a Cadillac roll,
Trickbaby is out on a stroll
He's looking for a grifter tip
on a hot streak filly,
who runs fast spurred by a mean buggy whip
He takes his numbered ticket buy,
puts it in his lucky left side pocket,
as he holds a rolled, sacred racing form scroll
in his superstitious, money-itching right hand
Trickbaby continues on his daily walk
heading to the hoop chain ballers park
Once there, he takes a spectator bench asphalt view,
and watch some opening moves
of the ghetto grandmaster’s playing
on their custom made chessboards
Long retired from the rat-race corporate game,
Trickbaby got laid back, lounging angles
and always charismatic, well-rehearsed dangles
He observes the walking nylon nets
concrete flash bait some guppy fishes,
and he rises to go where he knows
some quick currency streams are gon flow
Trickbaby captain finger signs the seedy hotel scout door man,
who in turn gives him the proper respect nod of his soldier head
Trickbaby is dressed in his natty, blue-grey pork pie hat,
neon black, sharkskin zoot suit
And patent leather penguin spats —
proper old-school playa shoes
He greets the tall, exotic Illustrated woman at the door,
who extends her psychotropic inked hand
and pierced diamond-studded tongue
Receiving the news of the working crews,
Trickbaby goes up to his penthouse room to rest
for another night rendezvous,
at the corner of Long con and Short play
King Gotham bat gon meet some joker night crawlers;
crack open some new grifter plans,
and watch those wannabe trickbabies get the dreamy eyes ...
Seeing visions of tropical beach sands
Trickbaby true knows that a fake trickbaby
only gon start to ghetto grow up one day,
when you take their milk bottle money away
Mazsi the cat was strolling one night,
when came down the road, a most curious sight.
A yellow striped cat with a jazzy coat,
big brimmed hat, bow tie ‘round his throat.
Mazsi had to smile at such a silly sight,
this striped yellow cat, thought he looked just right.
Twirling a gold chain in his right paw,
stepping down the street, waving at kittens he saw.
He walked up to Mazsi and gave her a look,
then all over his body he shook and shook.
“Well lookey here at what I see,
if you’re not the prettiest kitty there be.”
Mazsi gave him a look and said to him,
“You’re the kookiest cat from shoe to brim.”
That jazzy cat was taken aback,
how could this kitty, him attack.
“Come now kitty, surely you can see,
I’m the coolest cat, there ever will be.
Come join me tonight and let down your hair,
you and I can be a shmizally pair.”
“With you by my side we can dancel all night,
you and me such a jazzical sight.
It’s down to the dance hall for a special affair,
all of the hipsters and swingers are there.”
Mazsi was curious and would like to party,
but this crazy cats’ brain, seemed a bit tardy.
“I know you think you’re quite hip,
but on my radar you’re just a blip.”
Cool Cat begged, “Come on, you kittiest of cats,
I dressed for the night, right down to my spats.
Take my paw and I’ll show you the town,
we’ll swing and dance till the moon goes down.”
Mazsi took his paw and right was he,
he showed her the most fun there ever could be.
Down at the Dance Hall a crowd had formed,
under the moonlight the night was transformed.
Cats of all colors were dancing to jazz,
laughing and singing with pizzazz.
Hubba hubba and root toot toot,
across the dance floor the two did scoot.
The moon sank low and music got slow,
everyone knew it was time to go.
Mazsi and Cool Cat had stolen the show,
won the trophy, Mazsi and her new beau.
Robert G Stoner Jr ©
certainly it only takes putting the hand on the burner
once
to figure out how stupid a relationship at the work place can be
to figure out how it will effect your coworkers
to figure out how it will effect the relationship itself &
inevitably,
how it will ruin both the work reputation &
the relationship at hand,
with one clean swoop
like a samurai sword slashing swiftly
through a zucchini.
so what makes people continue to have them?
what makes people continue to risk their job in order to pursue
romance in the same place that the clock bears down upon one’s
head?
is it the intimate moments on break?
is it the make out sessions at lunch,
is it the private dialogue with another party throughout the day,
or is it just the last refuge of the desperate?
as humans, we do what we know best &
in this case, literally,
so how long then do you think it will last?
how long will it be a good thing to see your significant other
every
single
hour
of the
day
without a
moment of
privacy or
pause
from the ongoing bubbling at hand?
as the two new bunnies bounce around
cooing & groping, smiling on mondays (when everyone else is out to kill) &
often just being a general nuisance to all being subjected to it,
we watch the new lovers start to have little snippets of spats,
which in the early throes of that new finding of a person
may go unnoticed in a regular setting,
but now the concentrated work relationship
stomps out the issue &
then rekindles it at home
rekindles it on the way to work
rekindles it the next day,
for nothing is denied anymore
as each party is in the other’s 24/7
surveillance.
so the rest of us workers make best,
paying the designated bookie
as to when it will all crumble away &
suddenly things will be thrown across the room,
profanities will illustrate most of the day &
we will all be able to bank on a solid month or so of
entertainment.