Long Take apart Poems

Long Take apart Poems. Below are the most popular long Take apart by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Take apart poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Make Earth Great Again

To make America great again
begins with recalling,
in capital cities red and blue,
public squares,
and wiki circles,
We are what health
and sickness we do.

To make Earth healthy again
might be a stunning start
to cooperate together, sustain
what and whom,
when and where and why no god or goddess
should invite us to take apart.

To make all souls wealthy again
could be a revolutionary end
to bring communal intent
back at last
from just around this next, or past
war-torn bend
of unwritten history,
life as peace-loved spend.

Matriarchal led toward revolution's rebirth
of this less patriarchal nation
teaching ecology's balancing truths,
peace for theological children
of deep and mighty sacred station.

Far too crowded
to chant and jeer
at those we can violently outspend
And yet room enough to join all nations
to Make Earth Healthy Again.


Premium Member An Only Child

An only child
Never has to fight to the death for the prize out of a cereal box

An only child
Never knows how angry she can get when someone picks on her sister

An only child
Never has to cut the last cupcake in half to share with his brother

An only child
Never counts the Christmas presents to make sure everyone has an equal number in her pile

An only child
Never knows the joy of giggling with a friend an hour after her parents says go to bed

An only child
Never knows how exasperating a toddler can be when they take apart things in his room

An only child
Never understands what it is like to have to share a bath with another wet child

An only child
is someone I cannot imagine being

For What Reason Do I Ride On Clouds

For what reason I'm more than often sad...
if warm rain gives life to beautiful roses:
can skies change from grey to blue in an instant?
For what reason do I run from happiness?
Are these thoughts erased from the writing pad,
ignoring what causes bitterness and regret? 

The lonelier I am, the more restless I get;
I mistake affection for something else;
loving the wrong person is not the solution
to replace my loss and ignore delusion...
throwing away each kiss and embrace:
a betrayer lives nights of cold sweat!   

For what reason do I ride on clouds?
I can easily mistake passion for affection
and let delusion turn into useless despair!
For what reason do I object to being realistic...
take apart everything and find out if it's fair
to stay faithful, and avoid being egotistic? 
Could I stand on a pedestal and show devotion,
and not follow others that look for false lovers?

Is it worth losing all the joy
I felt and owned yesterday?
Who has patience always wins chasing dreams;
I hate to be the one hanging from tiny strings! 

For what reason do I get so weak
touching without words to speak?
Holding someone you adore is feeling very happy;
loving someone you trust is being more than lucky!
For what reason do I doubt promises...
whispered sweetly when desire rises?   

For what reason do I ride on clouds
and not think that liars are clowns?
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Beware, The Shining is Real!

Nothing is more 
dangerous
than spending a whole day, 
or two, or God help me, 
more, in a small house
with your spouse.  

Hide the hatchet 
and take up drinking.

Which window
is the closest exit? 
The one behind 
the loveseat? 

“Oh, look, a cardinal!”

Act fast! 

I would crawl through,  
half-way through day one.
I’ll break it if I have to! 
 
Go for a LONG,
one-way walk 
in the woods,

whether or not 
the woods are 
within sight of
our house.

This is too close for comfort.
This is not 
our honeymoon. 

“What are you
staring at!”

The never-ending
proximity
is killing me. 

I hate puzzles 
you spend years on, 
sigh, then take apart. 

Let’s go 
count the snowflakes
in the heap outside 
the door.

Now that
is something to do!  

Grab the tweezers, 
bifocals, 
and a bucket!
© CC Bloom  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member If My Life Flashed Before My Eyes

If my life flashed before my eyes…

There would be a moment of sadness
    Yet, there would be more joy and gladness

There would be a smile of recollection 
     With the melody of tender affection

There would be assurance and contentment
    Without the whisper of pain or resentment

There would be a light to illuminate the heart
    With peace and love that you’d never take apart

There would be inspiration beyond words
    With originality expressed in the afterwards

There would be imagination glowing silently
    On a breath of rich kindness, never violently

There would be memories of compassion and caring
    Hope and faith that are beyond our comparing

There would be honesty and integrity brought to life
    Relieving all worry, sorrow and even the strife

There would be miracles performed through prayer
    Promises of God’s gifts so we will never despair

There would be pictures of the ones I’ve cherished
    Guaranteeing my heart that they haven’t perished

There would be sights and sounds and amazing grace
    Tenderness that comes from knowing His embrace

There would be peace like none I’ve ever known
    Reassuring my soul that I won’t ever be alone

There would be an inner feeling of absolute wonder
    More vibrant than lightening and louder than thunder

There would be the warmth of knowing God is here
    There is no doubt I’m loved and have nothing to fear

There would be the love that brings hearts to pledge
    Their lives for the purpose of sharpening truth’s edge

There would be the praise that fills up my soul
   With worship and singing as His love does console
Form: Couplet


New Beginning

New beginning


Lights in the dead of the night sky;
The music plays waking the neighbourhood.
Electronic radio-waves leave no place to hide;
Wipe away the sleep from your eyes for good.


The noise is inside you now and forever;
Words of poetry dig deep into your soul.
You take apart their voice in any weather
And you are found wherever you may go.


The hands that feeds reaches into your head,
Leaving you without will; enslaved by a song.
You have become the beautiful word, never will you forget,
Or forgive them for not arriving sooner.  It has been too long.


Until now the sound had always been missing,
You were longing to hear the heart beat inside your chest.
Reawakened by love like you had never been listening;
They spoke to you like no other has ever said.


All the ends are now attached;
All the pieces fit at last.
All the words have been connected together;
Lyricists open up your head, releasing you forever.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
© Aa Harvey  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Silver Threads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLCHXfkGOIw

Perhaps if we were to take apart grief as we unravel life  
one single moment unstitched pulled out of time 
we'd begin to see that death is only a silent passage 
and we need not bear the loss alone,    
The memories of our coverlet years of love
will drive us home *  
Perchance, mayhap, we can take it by the hand like a seer,  
"we were born to exist and disappear"  said the Mysticeer   
and I for one believe that death is the encoding of life;  
The silver threads of Mercy are weaved inside God's blanket 
big enough to warm each widow, grieving parent, and child 
As long as we love well, while we are still here,  
death cannot take away our loved ones, nor their time on earth. 
In Love And Light, Your Mystic Rose

Premium Member Funerals No Longer Scare Me

Grandpa got a twenty-one gun salute.
I shivered, knowing how much he hated guns
After Viet Nam
The last time he picked one up was in a jungle.
Fifty years ago.

They are playing taps now.
Sad dirge sound.
Grandpa liked Johnny Cash and Elvis
Both would have been better at his funeral
I glare at the soldiers playing taps.
Why is this so sad? Grandpa liked happiness.

Felt a hand on my shoulder.
My grandpa’s hand.
No one else ever did this to me.
I knew that he knew what I was thinking.
We were close.
He had taught me to take apart cars
And how to be a man.
Funerals no longer sad to me.

Premium Member LABYRINTHINE PATHS

LABYRINTHINE PATHS
“You have no need to travel anywhere—journey within yourself. Enter a mine of rubies and bathe in the splendor of your own light.” Rumi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walk softly into the labyrinth,
knowing not what I will find.
Cautiously, I journey within. 

Through labyrinthine paths I meander
seeking answers.
Expectantly, I journey within.

Time unfolds like an origami crane,
‘art of being’ stitched to its wings.
Silently I journey within. 

I take apart this paper sculpture
each fold a lesson in being. 
Optimistically, I journey within. 

I look for truth on the crumpled paper,
the complex duality of my existence.
Scrupulously, I journey within. 

My heart is a labyrinth,
its chambers filled with longing.
Joyfully, I journey within. 

I emerge, transformed, quietly reassured.
The journey within is the journey home.

The Book About Different Thangs

they thought they were doing a simple task
but failed to realize that all things done
never simple or like they seem. Would
you care to take apart the item in questioned
asked the Professor?  Smiling, he spoke not
to allow those who were the audience to 
know what they were speaking of. It is not as
simple as it seems, the shelter of the shaft is
to be examed, but I refuse to remove the items from
the shaft (the hole) as this would be a disgusting job.
Others laughed, but I didn't know what they were
 speaking of. 
           I knew what they were speaking of my father
use to have these long drawn-out discussions about
 these damn thing's. One time we used a large oak
 barrel drum filled with rocks, and bedded that with
straw  and ran a pipe up thru the ground, so my 
father could invite people over and talk about the
 "vents of toilets" by Braffer Deacon, 
"We can fly people
to the moon, and have a space station in space,
 but can't find away to control the funk of, you know"
This was August 22, 2022, and didn't
understand what the big idea was talking about
 a damn toilet, buy we took pictures of the thing, and went around
the country taking pictures of the best, worst and most unusual,
and the most modern outdoor toilets. We even wrote a book on
Form: Dodoitsu

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