Long Sternness Poems
Long Sternness Poems. Below are the most popular long Sternness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sternness poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear John letter
But it’s not. His name happens to be John.
Rather a letter of a hopeful heart anticipating the future
Have I finally found the one man who will be my intimate other? He who will, at the end, sit by a fire with me, sipping tea, our blankets tucked around our tired old knees?
Chortling together about days gone by, how we met, the walks, the talks, the quiet moments without words.
The day I pushed you into the fish pond, the smell of crushed summer grasses under us mingling with our scent of passion.
Will I? Could I? Be your one to the end? Will it hurt very much if you are only a seven year itch…or a seven month or seven day man? Oh, I hope you are a 70 year man!
I love your sternness seen so seldom but still there. I fear your irrevocable nature, when you are done with a thing or person you are done!
What wall?
What ice house?
You mean these few old bricks scattered about on the ground that John Prine writes about?
‘My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley….’
Once you said I had rescued your heart from the ice house,
I asked, what do you mean?
I lived to know how cold your heart could be.
I love you, I tremble for the moment I will know you…my toes are singing,
You are my heart, I am yours always...
www.writeratplay.com
My fortunes drop from my hands with despair.
Pearls that plop on the sand are the rest of me that's left to bare.
Juggling gorillas and dinosaur tea parties swirl in discordant dance,
While my aimless mind presses spring in Hamburg 'gainst a wintry France.
All lives re-awake each morning with a choice to laugh or cry,
Since there is no door for the key you hold, no pan for the egg to fry.
So with oatmeal in your hands you run from house to house,
"Is this sad or is this funny?" You add you use to be a mouse.
And when even the flag of writing is held against a vacant wind
You meet metal with wood and not as wood and your heart you feel has sinned,
For not to laugh at the madness of sternness is to lose our only magic power.
To fall from branches that were never there is to star in the saddest movie of the hour.
Grieve not if your gift seems little now where once you shot rockets.
Remember: you were once a mouse, and now your have oatmeal in your pockets.
The husband asked, "When is Mother's Day?"
I said, Everyday!
M is for makeover. We don't always get it right the first time
O is for older souls fertile with love as mother
T is for tenderness we teach each other
H is for hope that the pupil in us stays humble
E is for endless love that resurface and make us renewed
R is for righteous thoughts that fuel acts of faith.
The Wife asked, "When is Father's Day?"
I said, Everyday!
F is for faith in the Almighty who leads the way
A is for another brother with enough love as father
T is for tender sternness that outweighs callousness
H is for the height and measure of a man of God
E is for endless love that redeems a man and his home
R is for reflections that fuel change within and out.
How the birds chitter chatter and the church bells ring.
Daffodils fill the graveyard and are picked by passers-by.
Families attend the spring fair where a florist sells arrangements.
The chided children are guilty of picking flower petals but are
Pacified by their parent’s sternness by partaking in a Spring dance.
Dancing deer dart away out of view in the village field.
Freshly hatched chicks are made victims of the foxes.
But not before the farmers so threaten their temptation by
A gunshot or two.
Another Spring rainfall, the grass greener and greener still.
Dogs are walked in the woods where children accompany wilfully.
They attend church with holy communion and in his honour bread and wine is consumed.
In his remembrance of his resurrection, it is such a ritual, and they are thankful for his offering.
Tambourines in the air;
Whistles and bustles in a
rhyme.
In the house of Khloe,
Melodies of the heart;
A reenactment in the farm house
of old rhythms.
Grand mother's tongue in cheek,
but she is gone;
Gone home to be with the lasses
Free from the pains of the masses.
The house of Chloe will never be the
same again.
Mirth and laughter gone through the
back door.
Enter the dragon, my mama with sternness
and a rod.
Not to be spared for our scrawny behinds
my mama.
The house of Khloe has changed course
never the same again.
Culminations of Beauty
Culminations of beauty cascading down from a twighlight sky
Ruminations worth refuting while I’m always asking why
Communications leave me fuming as the point is lost and denied
Calculations that are looming while my economic apprehension is justified
Impressionistic teenagers looking for the next influencer streaming
Chauvinistic infiltrators preying on the innocence of those still dreaming
Pessimistic stenographers documenting the planet screaming
Unrealistic photographers trying to capture all the underlying meaning
Pedantically populating another conspiracy theory for the masses
Semantically stipulating violence as their dopamine level crashes
Sycophantically stimulating silence as I take my hundred lashes
Romantically emulating nonsense as the nightmare returns in backward flashes
Insidious indictment for one who seems above the law
Hideous excitement showing as the twisted watch you get up from the floor
Envious confinement knowing that I am one of the working poor
Fastidious refinement lowering me out of the back of this metaphor
Refusal to participate in my own life story
Per usual I’ll invigorate the empty and the boring
Perusal of the pages to investigate as I sleep into the morning
Excusal to proliferate as I heed the sternness of the warnings
The End
Written: March 09, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's utterly aquiver and ambivalent
With is a glimmer of modesty
His fame stems from promoting peace
But who holds the power to bedraggle?
Let's embrace bel esprit, compassion, and mercy.
There is a path betwixt utterance and ubiquity
where knowledge flows freely
In quiet sternness, it evolves...
It wraps with a meandering debate.
Behold those who wept covertly,
Who wastes these precious tears?
When some dreams come to a halt,
Life endures and perseveres.
Who moistens their life, oh you?
Who bathes, but why won't submerge?
When water drifts away and out...
The monsoon remains never fades away.
A sacrifice can lead to martyrdom,
They have a way of shaping history
And confronts the dishonesty.
Fostering defiance and optimism,
aim for an idyllic future,
Leave a legacy.
And participate in upheaval.
What purpose does the blood serve?
Is it futile to draw that to a boil?
What's beneficial is the blood?
Is there a way to safeguard the soil?
Everyone raised a voice in reply,
Ahead of us is a fierce opponent
For the sake of the homeland,
We will shed our blood.
Being single for long spells out stubbornness;
Looking for evidence cum assurance,
Unlike taking heed while battling sternness...
Instead of enjoying funful tolerance.
At a point, with knife-
You don't have to really strife...
Eat and enjoy life.
When you cheat your time, don't blame your prime foes,
They must have been so tired pushing you through...
While lazily complaining threats impose,
Instead of strongly growing roles in blue.
At a point, with pain-
You don't have much to complain...
Grow and harvest gain.
What you so admire to acquire might dun
On you a damage, tough to treat fairly...
Or rather endure scars till life be done,
Instead of living peaceful mode squarely.
At a point, with time-
You don't have to squeeze out lime
To make a sweet crime.
Reading has to be for knowledge often;
Pleasure aside with targeted mind's growth,
To keep Sun when its rise, sky abandon...
Instead of waiting next meeting for both.
At a point, with book-
You don't have much doubt to hook
Night: morning's outlook.
Man dating a black tall slim girl is cool;
Though not grateful, he eyes fair short fat girl,
Thinking that one won't play him like a fool...
Instead enjoying easy tides all styles whirl.
At a point, with wish-
You don't have to be selfish,
All; time will vanish...
Chakpii!
Wooo! ! !
We have gathered
On grandfather’s stoneseats
After a hurried meal,
This moonlight...
Assemble, children, and hearken
To the tales we know
And heard from
Our fathers...
Chakpii!
Wooo! ! !
Oruru otu mgbe (Once Upon a Time)
The full moon, naked as birth, stood.
The silent leaves of mother forests
Listened;
All sternness loosened
In the face of the moon...
Conundrums,
Pulses,
Quizzes,
Proverbs...
A parched and famished ground once,
Now elated with
Grown ears; feet below in the
Wondering, dark and lonely soil
Chakpii!
Wooo! ! !
Oruru otu mgbe...
No distinction,
For among kinsmen
A child is the father of a man.
Charged upon native principles,
Conundrums,
Songs,
Quizzes,
Chants,
Oaths,
Verse,
Pulses...
Fortified in sponge-weave,
And voices coming from the one
Gong-hole
Scare
Cultural invasions,
Scientific blackmail,
Traditional irregularities...
Wafting fraternity,
The lunar concern ceases.
But we do not grope
In the dark,
For each eye is the other’s
Lamp.
Eureka of Archimedes was part of his daydream,
Thomas Edison nurtured his dream in bright light like gleam;
Could sleep ever overwhelm Alexander Graham Bell,
Till he heard the noise from the other and fell in a spell...?
George Washington Carver, who found in peanuts and soybeans,
Utilizations, like treasures, hidden abundant gleans;
Eli Whitney's constant daydreams gave birth to cotton gin,
That separated seeds, hulls and wastes; hearts of all did win...!
Johannes Gutenberg’s innovative printing machine,
Or John Logie Baird's mechanical television sheen;
Benjamin Franklin's lightning rod and the iron furnace,
Or Henry Ford's ventures into automobile sternness...
No invention has found its sphere devoid of day-dreaming,
This should be coalescence of action-vision creaming;
Together with concentration-shift toward internals,
Should bring forth spiritually resonant externals...!
21 November 2022
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