Long Temperaments Poems
Long Temperaments Poems. Below are the most popular long Temperaments by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Temperaments poems by poem length and keyword.
1. Facing life courageously with eyes downcast
happiness and peace not part of the forecast
amidst proud siblings, the only one timid
uncertainty in the air, densely humid
fine drink for all but taking a thimbleful
for true protection, the gods get my handful
glued to excuses and flaws of temperaments
leaving the ungodly to make side comments.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kings
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
2. Powers of men become diversionary
many unreal strengths, claiming to tonify
following masked demons to drop in centers
to acquire, to hold but nowhere rustic
drinks all to suffer spiritual dysentery
from a castle, jumping to a rotunda
to the things of God, becoming a rascal
a walking tapir in the midst of Tigers.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kinds
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
3. He has suffered it all in his first coming
can come of age his glorious second coming
it is never too late by his reckoning
now is the time to have a rite of passage
men can brag and make you have a reverie
other gods can fight to seem in rivalry
but run to him for the clear and blameless dress
for when its time, his glow no one can repress.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kinds
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
When you were alive with life:
My world had a loveliness in it, wow!
Heaven now holds the hues of your
Soul's colorful temperaments!
It strained me when the time came for you,
And early on in this life, it wasn't fair.
But I know I can still feel you,
You're this essence that fills my air.
But help me to feel and understand,
What you have been trying to reveal
Is it locked deep inside you
Way deep down inside that you resist?
You made me come alive, my love,
Now, with your presence, I cannot feel
But it doesn't change the way I feel our seal
With this time I do appeal, we'll shall see my love.
Shannon Marie, never shall I stop loving you! RIP
The intuition that seeps its way through this mind, can read people well and pin point the sort
that are unkind.
The people you don't want to mess with, the people who feel the need to judge, and the ones
who take advantage and who hold a grudge.
Its funny how some people can be as open as a book, yet others can close themselves up
when you want to take a look.
The loud mouths, the quiet ones and those who don't care, that the things they come out with
at times can be rather unfair.
you have the people who are two faced and those who are fake.
Its better to drift away from people with that attitude for your own sake.
It takes all sorts of people to make up this earth, as we are given our own temperaments
from the day of our birth.
some are blessed with looks and plenty of attraction, while others may not but are full of
affection.
there are those who find it difficult to show their emotion,
it comes naturally to most while others don't have a notion.
One things for sure its not the outside of a person or the way they look that amounts.
Its their inner beauty and personality that really counts.
Feeling like a particle of dust in the expanse of existence
I keep trying to find myself
Hoping, when I would do so,
That I would find the anchor that I need
To feel at home while being myself!
I searched for myself in the faces of people that I met
And was only met with pretense
People pretend to wish to smile
People pretend to care
People pretend to be happy
People and their pretentions, I decided
Is not about being me!
I searched for myself in the behavior of people towards me
And was only met with selfishness
People aim only to satisfy their ego
Ready to harm me and break me
Without any sense of pity towards the mess that I am
People and their cruelty, I decided
Is not about being me!
I searched for myself in the feelings of people towards me
And was only met with indifference
People care only to please themselves
People care not about pure intentions
About naïve temperaments and certainly not
About being an orthodox romantic living in a fast world
People and their feelings, I decided
Is not about being me!
I searched for myself in my own deep self
Am I the words that emanate from me
Am I the songs I listen to
Am I the clothes that I wear
Am I the actions of time over my body
Am I the purpose I have set for myself in life
Am I the choices that I make in life
Am I the facets that I show to the world
Or those which I hide, deep in closets?
Pray, after searching the within and without,
I decided that my essence remains unknowable
I am not that which I believe I am
I am not that which the world deems me to be
I am mystery and shall have to keep on searching
To be able to get to know me!
Torn are the pages of a callow poet’s scripts and poetry
whose temperaments in intensity brews, obscurity he owns
this lad of seventeen summers, by deluges done in,
unfortunate understanding and s
u
c c o r beyond his reach
Could it be his fiery red hair complements his fiery despair?
Flames of passion forged and fashioned from fragments
of wholeness denied blamed
Treacherous wrath resilient with bounds
and a harsh fixation that poison can cure
A martyr of poetic unjust, starved wooing words
spurned disdainfully by ruthless curs
O the valor oft times dons the mantle of resign,
sobering, despairing leap away, away
from the s c o r c h i n g i n f e r n o
internal, and into the great expansive beyond
Alas, at Sir Wrens St Andrew’s,
there lay the flesh of a premature eternal rest
and then, to bones yet destined to become fully-fledged
w p o i s o n t
h h
y y
t s
h ? e
e l
n_ _f
an arsenic end,
steel grey runs through veins
conscious elements eminence
Farewell to his anguished soul,
for his is a romantic eternal g’bye
fiery passions, temperate, b’fore him
an endless sorrowful slumber
A forger’s legacy
Elinoure and Juga Rowley works
War irks, such irks
Scarlet drips his corpse
O beloved knight in shining armor,
sisters’ pleas _/\_ raven’s mimicry
What war brings is not bright
“Virtue’s race
Is run in paths of pleasantness
and peace
though narrow, yet sufficient for the few
who have this Pearl of Price
alone in view”
—Thomas Chatterton
No slits watching, the lumps draw near
Reforming slowly, the Peak becomes clear
Forming fingers, then twitchy toes
Returning quickly, from Smith's Repose
Streaky strips of pus aligned
On a cage organically mined
Stars above a starless glove
Where fingers coil to give a shove
Lumps leap down from the Seat
Toes and fingers, strike and meet
Wilting flowers with every catch
Further, further, 'til it feels a latch
Writhing round the handle's shape
It has no strength as a mangled cape
Searching inwards, with no eyes
"A SiNgLe pRoBlEm HoLdS mAnY LiEs"
Like how the plant changed temperaments
The carcass embraces the elements
Hugging the hatch, its metal form
A searing goo begins to swarm.
Survival of twitching lieutenants just the last remnants
Working class residents snitching in lurking tenements
No matches or scratches itching irking local regiments
Sentiments stitching Test bible’s tribal past testaments
Elements primal pariah bewitching best temperaments
Merriment ditching spiral & dire forecast impediments
Viral as pitching tents inspire dream steam experiments
Not enriching with evident quagmire resentments
Inclement does fire bitc*ing about predicaments
Ire cements hitching to the umpire assessments
Hunch squire long lunch switching rival condiments
When cricket is in London town look up not down
What will sever any willow & leather is the weather
No refuge from the deluge as sorrows do drown
Whoever has got a ticket at the end of their tether
Is the tickle of all things fickle that gilds its crown
Which is why have to explain why Tests do reign
Sport where you might go off for bad light again
Complain haven’t the powers to showers restrain
Sort where you can’t properly train have to refrain
Let’s be plain to forget how wet it can get is insane
Naysay why do we in vain play 5 day Tests is inane
Mental and elemental is the point so don’t be a pain
In a nation where in every location it’s likely to rain
AT NOUGHT—
Under feet covered with my bad choices
I’m uncaring and I don’t care how it’s going
All caught up, unwavering, demining, stop judging the brethren
Unrestricted
I have a following
Mind’s encased in babblings, stop judging the populace
To dance within my space
There’s no disgrace
To unravel my unrighteousness
Controlled temperaments, stop judging the sisterhood
Full acknowledgement
As in Cain not Able
At Nought—
Not acknowledging ones brother
Keep ones departed death under cover
Believing that it’s all resolved
Living on the remaining blogs
Hoping no one comes, or cares
The situation been revealed
Waiting on the bats unbound non inclusive
Awaken dreams a dancing between the lines of reality
Galloping dignitaries
Unfettered, uncovered, uninhibited, unrestricted
Free to the fancy, fancy toward the freed
Given all that liberty, give me liberty
At Nought—
People all, all you people stand on the feet
We All shall be judged by t he Master, our Lord God
When time comes each and everyone
The feet off creation stand over circumstances deeper than oceans
Crawl, walk, run, fall in awe, retentive person am I
Fell in,, fall in all in a conclusion
Full acknowledgement
I have a following full acknowledgement
So at all cost judge not …….
At Nought—
05/07/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018©
2025.12.31 at 00:00:00
Christmas was near, here and then gone.
Now, New Year is on the edge of the footsteps.
To me, what a year of 2025.
It was nice, excited and fine.
I was happy and misery.
Mix feelings of missing someone, meeting another
And reuniting with an old friend.
I could not be bother any more,
Friends came and went as they wish,
I just concentrated on my music,
Embroidery, swimming and travelling.
Quite exhausting with all these activities,
It was more about the emotional part.
It went up and down after we were apart.
I must learn how to let them go,
How to treasure the memories,
And embrace the present
How to not be miserable by what happened.
Obligations yield no satisfaction,
If you love someone, you do your best
To make them happy. That was what I believe.
At the beginning of this year,
When I first met JC,
I thought BB and JC,
Both of them were two gentlemen.
They were loner, admired the same value in women.
Eventually, I found them different,
Now, one year on, I see them
As two very different individuals,
With huge gaps of temperaments.
I know exactly where BB was this evening,
Sitting at the desk and surf on internet.
JC on the other hand, he could be any where,
In Victoria or somewhere in Australia.
Oddly, I miss one of them,
Wonder how he has been.
Happy New Year, to all my friends.
As I watched the fire works,
I imagined each of them was my problem,
They shot up and burst in the sky,
They vanished and out of sight.
20th February 1888, he left as snow fell in Paris,
seeking warmth, bright light and colour.
Provence beckoned, Arles awaited.
Cold welcome soon turned warm, Vincent keen to explore,
keen to advance painting style,
bold colours, dynamic brush strokes.
May day and the yellow house his base, hopes of a collective studio.
Daring colour adventure begins,
townscapes, countryside, ordinary people, self portraits.
23rd October, his good friend Paul arrives,
dedicates a self portrait to him.
Painting solace the quest.
But two months later, no more, their characters and artistic temperaments clash.
Friendship ends.
Collective studio shattered.
23rd December mental breakdown, absinthe takes hold,
left earlobe severed,
but still he paints.
His postman friend Roulin worried, mental strife continues.
Townsfolk complain of disruption.
Red-headed madman must go.
March 1889 police shut yellow house, what now for Vincent?
8th May, Arles ends after 300 paintings and drawings,
25 kilometres to Saint Rémy voluntary internment.
Personal demons, tortured soul, but still he paints, indeed his best,
143 paintings – Starry Night,
at the pinnacle of his genius.
On to Auvers-sur-Oise and journey’s end, July wheat fields painted,
and then its over,
suicide in that painted location.