Long Supposing Poems
Long Supposing Poems. Below are the most popular long Supposing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Supposing poems by poem length and keyword.
KINGDOMS OF POWER
man - with his little sphere of influence,
claims mighty power, in his smallish hands.
mini empires, like stars from the universe,
like microscopic atoms - they march on -
stomping, squeezing, squashing, squelching - mere men.
they think, it will shut them up, dismember time.
movies hail them with majestic symphony,
shuffling through narrow streets – clanging harsh.
~~
on quiet mule, (a little braying – perhaps),
a humble man, a meek child bride – travel.
heaven’s spotlight upon them - star of Bethlehem!
angels gaze, wisemen seek, shepherds shake,
as a virgin gives birth to a unique boy
one that, if he chose, could play with this earth.
this infant king is bigger than life itself,
“Adam’s breath” received from His own spirit.
while little men sleep, in castles of gold,
the sinless Savior lies in a manger.
~~
the puppeteer pulls the strings, supposing
he’s in control - chops wood, prepares nails -
draws blood, sweat and tears. on stage, all appears
lost. hope is buried. a huge stone is rolled,
blocking entrance to the holy of holies.
but wouldn’t you know, God can tear it in two!
innocent blood was spilled on this spoiled earth
claiming it back, redeeming us, and pow…
the power and majesty of the living God
shows up, shows off. Light raises the dawn.
~~
once again, He is quiet, biding His time
giving kingdoms a chance to change their minds.
to arrive at this conclusion – you must be saved -
lest you die, an eternal death! not wanting
anyone to perish, He holds back his sword.
if our tongues would do the same, and believe,
confess, instead of curse, just believe, and
be saved, because His majesty WILL BE praised.
Kim Rodrigues © 2016
In the deep night, the stars are tears on the sky of my dreams,
Our friendship, a thin vine that binds souls in silence,
In the love between friends, sincerity is the key that opens hearts,
But how can I fall in love when I still bear an old vow?
Under the veil of respect, love is a flame that flickers timidly,
In the mirror of time, your face is just a shadow from photographs,
Your life, a book with unwritten pages, a mystery that attracts me,
But how can I accept a romance when my oath still holds me?
Supposing I were free, a thought that stirs my heart,
No matter how in love I might be, I won't plunge into the abyss without knowing,
Like a butterfly seeking the light, fearing the darkness,
Each day is a blank canvas, waiting to be painted by destiny.
To be in love, you must feel the soul beyond words,
To know the truth hidden beneath smiles and glances,
I only know your face from the book's cover, a vague dream in the night,
A thousand common points connect us, but uncertainty dances between us.
I do not know your character, nor your pleasures, nor your hidden habits,
But I hold you dear as a poet, as a person, a sincere friend in this vast world,
And I let time decide everything, for only it knows how to weave the threads of destiny,
In the deep night, the stars are tears on the sky of my dreams.
Tomorrow
One Day, I reached and sat on the highest peak that I could find.
After arriving, I quietly celebrated with pride my great climb.
After a while, I relaxed, looked all around, and reclined.
Inhaling the crisp clean air, I was rested and feeling fine.
Everywhere I looked, I was being captured by the tall pines.
None by God could arrest and speak such peace to my mind.
I was longing for Yesterday, supposing she would help me reach Tomorrow.
For comfort, Yesterday sometimes uses a stone, and not always a soft pillow.
I found Yesterday, although it was in a different state of mind, place, and sorrow.
Yesterday was unlike anything I expected, because time had erased its lovely face.
Yesterday had painted its own portrait, defying clarity and leaving so little trace.
I had accomplished my goal; but it left me win less at the end of an emotional race. I was so overcome with tears, that I was forced to appeal to God for more grace.
My great quest for Yesterday was much more than a ride down memory lane.
She was much like Today, playing her part; and some things about her caused me a little shame.
But thankfully, Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow, always seem to work together with God to ease the pain.
12012015(Part Fiction)(Contest, Any Poem, sponsor, Broken Wings)
You knocked on my door and it was opened
You asked me for something and I gave it to you.
You asked me for support and you found the best of me.
You came, went and struggled
but you've always found the same person that opened the door the first time.
Supposing we were friends, we walked many roads together.
You called me, I replied,
You were in troubles, I tried to solve them.
You were depressed, I was your pillow to cry on.
You needed my hand to be taken, I was all hands.
My ears to be listened, I was all ears.
Everything I could be or do, my whole life was there for you, my friend.
Those years were my best ones, when I had everything a person can have.
As a humble person, I needed the most important things to survive.
Enough money to pay my bills, food, clothes, and what it really mattered to me, I mean
those friends or specially that friend I was dedicated to.
Suddenly my life changed.
I remember, I tried to tell you about my problems and you've never had the time.
I remember I didn't ask you much, but only to meet you again and I've found disappointments and stories that I couldn't understand.
Now after the years, I was the one struggling, and I dind't find that friend but somebody telling me that circumstances had changed and she had a different life than me, a life where I couldn't fit in.
What it made me think that I couldn't find any support on the person I used to give my best.
Sadly, after many years I found a door I can't never knock on
and an empty space in my future.
If you ever need a reason
To go someplace out of season,
I’ll supply a few and you can have your pick.
Traffic’s almost non-existent
But if you are still resistant,
Here’s another reason that might do the trick.
Crowds are somewhere else a’swarming
So while others are conforming
You’ll have sidewalks to yourself to stroll and browse.
You can park without compunction
For the cops would rather function
When the masses challenge what the law allows.
Since off-season, stores are closing,
You’ll save money, I’m supposing,
Though perhaps you’d wish that there were more to buy;
But you’ll spend your day relaxing.
Stress will wane instead of waxing.
If you’ve never done it, now’s the time to try!
Hershey, Pennsylvania’s a place I would like to go.
It is essentially a chocolate El Dorado.
This little town somewhere in the middle of the state
is truly a place many people consider great.
It’s just full of chocolate goodies without any doubt.
You can get chocolate bars with almonds, or some without,
and peanut butter cups, kisses, and others galore;
enough is there to satisfy anyone, and more!
This is a town I would be proud to call my birthplace
if I were made of chocolate with “HERSHEY” on my face.
A bunch of “Whatchamacallits “would be my brothers,
and tall stacks of Kit-Kat bars I would call my sisters.
How many people would want to take a bite of me?
Supposing this was all true and not mere fantasy?
I would have plenty of relatives for all to see.
Together, we would be one big happy family.
The closet is my refuge
a place where I escape
from all of life's intrusions
to give my thoughts some shape.
To do what I came in for
it's needful to let go,
forget whatever's pressing,
all bothers that I know.
As this may take some doing,
I close my eyes to see
what's going on inside me,
obstruction of debris!
My eyes once more now open,
I'd like to see the view,
but frosted glass prevents this
vista from the loo.
To add to my frustration,
I hear the ruddy phone
in my pocket ringing
with its persistent tone.
Although I do not answer,
I wonder who might be
wanting me this morning,
supposing that I'm free.
It feels like absolution
as I'm relieved of trash,
discharged of so much refuse
with just a gentle splash.
“Be out in forty seconds,”
my father used to call.
“Use both sides of the paper.”
– in those days crisp and small!
So much for my reflections
while I was all alone.
The time for my emergence
I can no more postpone.
IN RESPONSE TO IF---
In my conjunction, possible my condition provided that
In my condition,
Imagine this,
And into the Response to If… "What if”
Presuming that
Supposing that
As long as, given that, in the event that
And into the Response to If…
Despite the possibility that, no matter whether.
A condition or supposition.
In my uncertainty, doubt; What
In my condition, stipulation, provision,
And into the Response to If…
I constraint, precondition, requirement, specification, restriction no visions
"There is one “ if “ in all this"
Unsure in my complexities, Uncertainties
Unknown bliss
10/30/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2018©
Supposing my fingers could talk
while I'm on a cold winter walk
one hand, mitten-bound
the other, gloved sound-
I bet with each other they'd balk.
With gloves, fingers need to be steered
through openings not truly geared
where digits get stuck;
yet mittens bring luck
with wide open space fully cleared!
My gloved fingers- each tucked alone
just fabric between every bone
no company there
in the frigid air
perhaps not the best comfort zone.
My fingers in mittens each smile
enjoying their warm, cozy style
each share body heat
in one place complete-
so thankful for space-versatile!
December 16, 2022
Contest: Of What Use Are Gloves To Fingers
That Only Understand Mittens?
Sponsor: John Lawless
Pet Poem, GiGi
With quite a large grasp of human’s language,
Gigi is “little girl,” our princess. She likes that.
The smartest pup we ever had; brought home
As a rescue, found — they told us — wandering over
Open eastern Kentucky hills. Lost from somewhere.
— Perhaps intuitively seeking her destiny —
Until out of her cage, that unforgettable day,
She rolled before us onto her back, wagging her tail,
And Jim swept her up into his cradling arms, which
She’ll never forget: her eyes see him with adoration.
This long-haired, silky-black dashund mix,
With brown streaks on her bearded muzzle; then,
Barely 12 -pounds; with long ears;and
A sweeping, fan-tail arcing up over her back.
Now she is nearly eight years old (we guess).
She becomes a friend to anyone who comes in,
Insisting on their attention, supposing the feeling
Is always mutual, and she will try to say so,
Because she has observed that people talk, which
She seems to understand will get results. Lately, Tr
She tries to speak with variations of sounds so
Nearly parroting song. She seems to hope she may
Receive the “Oh my!” exclamation that causes
Actions, meeting her trying and desires
In response to her every vocalized “Yrr-owl!”
Plus, Gigi has learned to hop with precision into our
Unexpecting, cradle-embraces on our chests or
On our laps. ...Like a toddler, she
Will then set herself, intent to show her affection,
Laying her head on our shoulders by our necks,
To give and to receive hugs. They are amazing,
Such sweet hugs for a couple with no children near!
She exudes a telepathy, locking her soft eyes’
Sight to my own, so fixed, while I relay the extending
Of my heart’s love to hers, dear girl,
Almost angelic, always coming (with what feels
Like true compassion) close to my sad moments,
Patient and never considering fear.
Oh, little girl, Gigi, you brought love
In the door with you
And your hugs will live longer than time.
********. **********. **********. *********
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/2020