Long Them Poems
Long Them Poems. Below are the most popular long Them by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Them poems by poem length and keyword.
this is the great merit of this magician called life.
it deceives us and passes us by from moment to moment
from birth to the great gate
most are disappointed. that extraordinary thing,
the great thing dreamed of and expected, did not happen
or maybe... it was not the time yet... or the place
there are people who are satisfied because life has offered them many moments
not extraordinary but precious enough
to be kept in their souls for an eternity
and yes. they are happy people. they enjoy every moment offered
they have the power to transform the everyday into extraordinary
as if epiphany is normal
happy are all those rich in memorable moments
because eternity will remain theirs
painted in tastes and colors
In the dark shadow is where they wait
I can see them and hear them, up very late
The sound of the tick tock drums in my head
As I hide under the sheets of my cosy warm bed
What is it? I wonder, that creeps and crawls
Making creeks in my wardrobe and in the floors
It's scared of the light as it goes when their on
And it hates adults, if they're here it's just gone!
It never shows itself or appears during the day
Or when I play music, dance or I play
It's never hurt me and I have been here for years
So I wonder why it causes me all of these fears
If I close my eyes in the middle of the day
It makes all the light disappear straight away
That's not scary so I can't figure out why
The darkness at bedtime can make me cry
So I have decided its me and a thing when I'm tired
With a little nice music I hear nothing undesired
So I still don't like it when it is dark in my room
I am brave now and know I will be asleep soon.
Picasso was an artist
So am I
I pour ink on paper
in a style
that'll make you wanna cry
I can paint her smile
using similes
and describe her
eyes with a sonnet or three
Mozart made beautiful music
So can I
I string words together
that'll make you wanna sing
kind of like lyrics
I write all about love
and everything.
Ansel Adams took photos
So do I
I use words to show pictures
of all kinds
and project them to my readers
in their minds.
Etta James was a singer
But I cannot sing a note
but what I can do is
pour out my heart
in neatly typed phrases
with cleverly penned quotes
I'm a poet
I love words the best of all
come join me while I write
of lost love, new love
and all the above.
There's no surprise to your casual lies,
I've heard them all before.
You weave your spell and those who fell,
Lie dormant on the floor.
Your witches brew, is quite potent true,
But that won't change the facts.
Cause in the end, no words can mend,
Your cruel and heartless acts.
Chorus:
She's got the Devil inside her,
It's just one of her sins.
When she crosses your path,
That's when the trouble begins.
She's got the Devil inside her,
Just you wait and see.
She's the Queen of Suffering,
And complete misery.
You're a wisp of smoke and a wicked joke.
The last laugh will come from me.
You'll soon dissipate from your lies and hate,
All alone is your destiny.
With the Devil inside her and nothing to guide her,
She's blind to all her vices.
It's such a bitter pill, but no comfort still,
To those that she entices.
Chorus:
She's got the Devil inside her,
It's just one of her sins.
When she crosses your path,
That's when the trouble begins.
She's got the Devil inside her,
Just you wait and see.
She's the Queen of Suffering,
And complete misery.
The bridge is long, the lake is wide,
the trees are bare, they’ve lost their pride.
and so it goes, as Winter shows its face,
the bears asleep, deep in some hidden place.
snowmen stand tall, in neighbor’s yards,
inside, the elders write Christmas cards.
the children on their aging sleds,
slide down the hills, fresh from their beds.
and me I’m packing, a long road lies ahead,
to where, I don’t know, it hasn’t yet been said.
a soldier’s life, is guided by the rules of war,
to follow with the others, I’ll do my given chore.
and as I’m waving to my son, gliding down the hill,
my backpack holds his photo, my heart does feel the chill.
here comes the bus, I dare not hesitate,
to board it now, no matter what my fate.
and as my wife and child, sleep soundly here tonight,
in some forsaken distant land, I must prepare to fight.
in my pocket lies a rosary, I count the beads each night,
if there’s a god above, he must know I’ve tried to do what’s right.
to follow his directions, through trials and tribulations,
to be a good and better man, a part of his creations.
with heavy heart, I go to battle, some unknown enemy,
to kill someone I never met, disturbs the very soul in me.
and as I stand here at attention, I watch the body bags,
unloading from our waiting planes, all covered with our flags.
as tears fall from these eyes, that have seen the worst in man,
I cannot help but feel the pain, but still I do the best one can.
the scriptures say “thou shalt not kill”, these words we all live by,
but many Christians go to war, and blindly heed the battle cry.
now homeward bound I leave this place of horror in disgrace,
that I have been a part of this so called the human race.
animals in their wild domain, will kill for food and territory,
while we kill for many reasons, and claim we won with glory.
now back home, I hold my wife and child, my love for them still thrives,
in these arms that once have taken, much too many lives.
I swear my hand upon the holy bible, this will be my solemn word,
no matter what the battle cry, I will not go, I will not be deterred.
I'm the son of all that's been
Drinking deep of my sin
Of premarital and of lies I've told
And responsibilities I hold
Scattered them all in the breeze
It barely even bothered me
I thought I was king, I knew everything
Thought the world was just a jewel on my ring
But now I see that I was wrong
And I'll confess my sins in song
But like a God that failed you all
You don't believe in me
I went through most my life
Coasting by on luck
And when my lucky stars blinked out
Man, I'd just get stuck
But every day, I'd pray
To a God
That I'm not even sure is a thing
But a spiritual energy
Inside every living thing
Praying to myself and you
City of the lost
Crying out for something to live for
Slaving away in this small town
City of the lost
In endless boredom we found sin's the cure
That's what history has shown
So me and her found a place to sit
No one else knew about it
An hour passed and the air was hot
The sounds were sweet and it was just what we sought
We didn't think about what we'd done
We were just looking to have fun
Now I'm laying alone in bed
Worried sick and I'm clutching my head
Can't afford a mistake
It's more than we could take
Hoping for blood
To end our flood
Of sin and tears
Dearly beloved, can you hear me from afar?
All the way in the other town, where distance keeps us barred
I'm sorry I've lied to you but it's something that I'll fix
Even if you never knew, it still makes me sick
I'm kicking my addiction so I can make you smile
Figured I'll toss my sins with it to make it worth my while
Might as well improve myself so if your blood graces our day
We can try again way on down the road some day
Til then, these are my crimes
From now, til the start of my time
I've lied, stole and coveted
The peace of the dead
And it took until today
When the sky was clear and blue
I left the shelter of my home
And maybe I'll find my way
And leave this town with you
But first, I must...
Atone
It's leaving
I'm leaving
We're leaving
Looks like we're leaving it behind
Old Scottie’s got a cob on
Can’t find his favourite chair
Just back from a mini reunion
And he can’t find it anywhere.
Not yet got the nerve to tell him
It went the middle of last week,
Mike gave it to a charity shop
When he had a fit of pique.
Martin’s sat quietly crying,
Had his recurring nightmare
Of serving back in Bosnia
And he’s in a fit of despair.
Almost time to open the Drop-In.
There’s no cow juice in the fridge.
The centre without milk is like
A scene from Pork Chop Ridge.
Thirty seven coffees yesterday
And not a single one was black.
I’ve sent somebody to the shop
But they’ve not yet arrived back.
The centre for broken soldiers
And I’m the Duty Office nerd,
Just whinging and ing
This morning is all I’ve heard.
They’re all physically fit but
Their wounds are concealed
It’s very unlikely some of them
Will ever be fully mentally healed.
Always the chance of a flashback,
An attack of doubt and fear,
And it can bring some relief
When a fellow veteran is near.
They’ve come back with the milk,
The mugs are lined up and clean,
Thanks be to the man who invented
The essential dish washing machine
It’s almost Drop-In time,
The Duty Counsellor is on his way,
Noel and Gordon are at the door,
Time to start another manic day.
Old Scottie calmed down
Said he didn’t really care
The Counsellor brought Martin
Out of his Bosnia nightmare.
The mugs all washed and clean
All ready for opening next day
The Drop-in’s locked and closed
Time for home and I’m on my way.
Yes, Let's Do it. Election Insanity.
....................
Yes! Let us have all felons vote!
Better yet, let's muddy the "Swamp"
Have known killers run for Congress.
Perhaps, even be our President.
Indeed, the Americans have gone looney.
Must be chugging down really cheap wine.
Or smoking tons of powerful Ganga.
Don't forget the OxyContin...Whooh!
Let's believe those who work are evil.
Pit them against those who will not.
A typical Communist famous card trick,
Played by Commie crooks.
Let's knock over every statue of those who
made America great,
And replace them with un-American ingrates.
Let's replace them with killer rappers,too
Or female singers on TV, who love to
flash their woo-hoos!
And a special garden so inspired,
Dedicated to disgusting race-batters, too?
And a special duo needs one, also
Stormy Daniels and Avenatti, a dude so
falso!
The newest one to Jussie Smolett,
all made in gold.
Hope that idea. Leaves you cold!
Why heck! We took God out of schools.
Then like refards,we complain ,they don't
know the Golden rule.
No, they don't..you removed a basic tool.
And to salute the flag? Oh, no, they won't!
Flags are to be stomped on and for the
Burning?
All this sets my stomach churning.
In recent years, our government wanted
Their spies in churches.
Yes your ministers are evil don't you know?
But into a mosque, the FBI may not go.
Christians are a dangerous breed!
Really? Yes, so say all the druggies high on
speed.
This is my brief peek as what's coming down
the pike.
I find it all dismaying and not at all right.
Panagiota Romios
4/23/2019
3:2m PST
~Love Like No Other~
(Sonnetina Rispetto)
There is no love like a mother
She just loves you like no other
Mothers are angels from God sent
They're here for us from time of birth
God put them for us here on earth
Mothers want their kids safe content
There is no love like a mother
She just loves you like no other.
Mothers best friends they want to share
They give us love for us they care
Mothers are angels from God sent
Mothers want their kids safe content
There is no love like a mother
She just loves you like no other.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2013
January.19.2016
" The Sonnetina Rispetto" is a style created by Dorian Petersen Potter, aka ladydp2000.
Sitting down in a local coffee shop, I see many people speaking and working on stuff that may never be valuable or valid for any medium. Especially, when all of the conversations take place in different mediums. Mostly, you can hear the words fly from their keys.
Take a stroll with me
The girl in the corner is trying to be an advocate for some woke rubbish after she is called a miss and not neuter person!
Oh poor baby! Are your feelings hurt? I don’t care! It’s time to grow up!
The guy in front of her is doing the same thing
Both of them should be silent and be appreciative that they were acknowledged
Too many liberties are given to fools that only focus on trivial matters instead of true problems that arise.
Where are the people that speak up against the true social injustices of the world?
Where are the people that would speak about gender, job, age, and religious discrimination?
Now people are talking about their feelings and why others should care!
This all occurred before I came into the coffee shop as middle schools were starting to waste valuable time with pointless exercises that spoke about feelings. Instructors would waste class time doing a constant rehearsal of one movement for twenty minutes. If you cannot figure out the routine then figure it out on your own time before class. Rehearsal is meant for rehearsals and not for practice.
On the screen of another person they are watching laugh tracks that have no substance. The barista is asking for the details of each order.
Sitting down in a coffee shop while being on social media is now a different form of socialization. Where are the people that spoke to one another in a social physical circle?