Long Third(a) Poems
Long Third(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Third(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Third(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
Having once died, I found the air like there moist and still.
Humming along soft with unseen green wings of light,
The echoes of a song long written unfulfilled,
That wove through veils of gold and endless night.
Each step a path, each path a stair case unseen,
Where shadows melt and shimmer into cold flame,
A silent guide, a voice both fierce and keen,
Would call to me gently, softly speaking my name.
The first was joy, a laughter spun with my tears,
The next, a peace that wrapped the soul in ice and fire,
The third, a mirror bright with all my fears,
Unveiling depths of love, and lost my desire.
Each level bled into the next unknown,
A spiral wide that never ceased to grow,
In realms of thought, of heart, and dream alone,
Where time unraveled, infinite and slow.
How many levels?
In each plain of existence,
none measured whole,
For each contained the universe of each unborn soul.
a widow she lived in village by the river
at forty five her looks made men in town quiver,
married four times she was looking for another,
a cobbler, a doctor or any by stander.
David her first husband went out to the big sea,
he was washed ashore next day and found near the tree,
Ian was next, a bishop so quiet and thin,
he died in church talking about eternal sin.
Leon her third, a carpenter built like a rock,
he was hit by lightening under the town clock,
Dennis her fourth was into big time horse racing,
he died in sleep when his heart stopped pacing.
Soon our good widow found her husband number five,
all wondered how long young Oliver would stay live,
he was a good sort who helped everyone in town,
he joked and laughed and was a well loved funny clown!
The local fortune teller gave her some advice,
to ward off evil and stop Oliver’s demise,
‘name your house after all the men you have married’!
She did as told, for Oliver she was worried!
If you now pass a house by the good old river,
You may see tending to garden, young Oliver,
behind him on a board names of men of widow,
First letter each name from above down spells — DI*LDO
That is a joke in town, unknown to the widow!
Fortune teller was prankster- a local fellow!
Ryan and Amy are getting married next month…as couples often do…
As the father of the groom in honor of their tying the knot…I thought I’d tie one too.
When I found the perfect bow tie…I knew I had to buy it…
and by my calculations I had two months in which to learn to tie it.
The bow tie, however, came with no directions…in the box just one untied tie and nothing more…but I was undeterred…after all…that’s what You Tube videos are for.
So I Googled the easiest way to tie a bow tie and a smiling man came into view…
He said this is easy…not to worry…do exactly what I do.
And I tried…I really tried to do exactly what he did…I tried with all my might…
but I realized after 70 years upon this Earth I didn’t know my left hand from my right.
And he was much too hard to follow…his hands moved too quickly to and fro…
when he was finished tying…I hadn’t even started a bow.
My confidence was beginning to wane…but I still had my tenacity…
I have put together IKEA furniture…one little bow tie would not get the better of me.
So I turned to another You Tube video…then a a third, a fourth, a fifth…
after which I was certain the easiest way to tie a bow tie was nothing but a myth.
I even printed out written directions where after each step I could stop and check…
but the finished bowtie in the picture never matched the one around my neck.
After one month of painstaking practice…I finally had it down…
When I showed Deborah she asked, “Did you mean to make it quite big…you look more like a clown.”
She was right but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t make that bow tie small…
and looking like a clown at Ryan and Amy’s wedding…well that won’t do at all.
So when they tie the knot next month…
my hand tied bow tie is a fantasy I now have shed…
I wonder if Ryan and Amy would be happy….
with something from IKEA instead.
If I had to choose three people who have influenced my life
Through time and space,
I think their diverse backgrounds would be the big surprise.
Yet they all were able to keep their humanity,
Their sense of humor,
And their powder dry,
To make it through the pain barrier,
Despite what was thrown at them from their friends,
As well as their enemies,
And ultimately to be remembered with Love and respect by most.
The first a woman who most had written off as being incapable,
Of anything more complicated than breathing in and out by all but a few.
A woman who fought to be heard and seen as a person in her own rite.
A woman who had to cope with those close to her deciding,
How much she needed to be protected from those people who might hurt her.
Yet we can google amazing quotes from her and her struggle has been immortalised.
For those who haven't guessed her name was Helen Keller.
The second a man who was considered past his use by date,
And an impediment to the advancement of peace,
Yet in retrospect is considered the saviour of the modern democracies,
With many films and books still coming out on his life and times.
Churchill was his name.
The third a man who had to overcome racism and brutality,
To unite a Nation.
A man who is now written into history,
As an example to those who seek to override the influence of hate
And prejudice in society.
If I mention Nelson, his surname should be obvious to all.
The thing that separates these three from the rest for me
Is that they all had or developed a sense of purpose,
That helped focus their energies in the most positive way,
To keep them in the game,
When others were falling by the wayside.
It seems I had a slim chance of a podium position
In the viagra eating contest I faced such stiff competition
If I don’t get at least a third, a medal I’ll be missing
And that’s a shame because it isn’t cheeks that they’ll be kissing
Perhaps I’ve been blacklisted since the time I won first place
I got my medal but then I was sent home in disgrace
When the mayoress knelt and hung a medal on my little guy
That last viagra kicked in and I poked her in the eye
I left so quickly that I had to go home in my shorts
I got some knowing looks but I couldn’t read their thoughts
A few young ladies seemed to think that I was rather hot
They looked at me then at sky and all they said was ‘What?’
There are three loves so far that I have found,
like triplets, different minds, similar face,
the first where one's feet do not touch the ground
two souls oblivious to time and space.
The second, when the giddiness subsides,
terms and conditions made, a course now set,
doubts cast aside, life now a smoother ride,
comfortable, as good as it will get.
The third a maelstrom, tempest, barren skies
her hand grips his lest they be torn apart
as age and pain rinse colour from the eyes
and circumstance assays the strongest heart.
But as the years progress I feel maybe
there is a fourth love, even greater than the three
whose combined works make it like yeast arise,
a love, once faith, becomes one that we see
when one is taken from the other's eyes.
That fourth love is not a 'where', 'tis but a 'when'
but be assured- I love you until then.
For contest 'Love poem', sponsor Heidi Sands
April 2nd 2018
Amelia she loves to chat and tells an amusing story
But dear readers BEWARE – this one’s a little gory
She worked long hours at night as a barmaid
It was a job she loved and good wages she got paid
She’d had a busy day and her pits were a little whiffy
So she had a little bath – it would only take a jiffy
So into the bath Amelia got, she sank into the bubbles
But this was only the beginning of Amelia’s troubles
Amelia did a little fart but unfortunately followed through
And in the bath was floating a little bit of poo
Amelia got out quickly and left the bath to drain
But unbeknown to her the turd it did remain
She got dressed and ready to go - she had to get her lift
To the pub she loved to work in she always enjoyed her shift
With the customers Amelia was always a big hit
She didn’t let on her secret that in the bath she’d done a little poop*
But it was a Wednesday night and a quiz was on this day
Amelia she loved this challenge and she would always play
The final question stumped many people but they wanted to be the winner
Which barmaid crapped in the bath tonight and could they name the sinner?
The one in the white t-shirt some of the customers did shout
Amelia went as red as a beetroot- she couldn’t wait to get out
But the customers they did shout and cheer
And poor Amelia had to pour them another beer
Now Amelia no longer works in the bar
She works as a receptionist – she’s really come far
She loves her new job and always likes to talk
But to stop her following through now she always wears a cork.
· I had to change this from the S*** word as I know swearing is not allowed – but the expletive does make the poem flow better.
Jan Allison
19th March 2014
~submitted for contest Take 2 Free poetry contest sponsored by Nette Onclaud ~
- Unplaced in contest 'tickle my funny bone' sponsored by Francine Roberts ~
~ Please see notes about this poem ~
---------------------------------------------
Three sisters - two as lovely as the dawn,
the third, a travesty of face and form
and we - a trio of fine gentlemen,
(to all but former flames, who'd disagree!)
Like Musketeers, we fellows made a set -
one for us all and all of us for one!
So too, these ladies, we learned with dismay,
which left us with no choice but to draw lots...
Good manners and good breeding tantamount,
we chose three cards and tossed them in a hat -
two Queens and one that we had scratched to white
(which would, of course, prescribe the oafish girl)
At times, one is the cart... at times the ox
This night, a beast of burden I became
The first man pulled a heart, the next, a spade
but last to choose - alas! I drew a blank!
---------------------------------------------
I'll pave the path not yet paved
and lay it out my own way
reflecting how thoughts behave
as I journey this maze of life each day.
Survival will not suffice after my foundation does arise
to serve to steady nerves that surface
as I surge head first in a search to succeed
and I first second and third a thirst to not desert my needs
however bad the hurt at its worst degree
knowing these strong words have no worth to me
if strong words are all these words can be.
Should I fake movement and act out actions like actors
for image improvement when actually being active factors
and fronting while being inactive will only suck me backwards
and no luck alive will retract me back nor will words.
Cus these inspiring sounds I write don't sight activity
but do unearth reserves of fight and positivity,
preserved in my core as though separate to this reality,
spares, but once stirred appear to emerge and merge
with a fresh vitality refreshing this purged willed personality
now bravely portraying the ways of a renegade
though still a lemon and not yet lemonade
fizzing with not afraid
in this littered beaten bitter escapade
of ignorance and cluelessness verse on how to deliver
a path I wish to pave.
Strong willed with the aim of a numpty
impersonating Humpty Dumpty
while just now one thought runs free....
I want a path I cannot pave....
Have I found the Trump in me?
The past becomes a lesson
All of them had a session with destiny
In their century they stood firm so
Here is a toast to the three that died
And to the One who is living!
First a toast to Watchman Nee
Through your readings
I learned the power of bowing my knee
As a teenager your readings
Melted over my life
Soon I would understand the knife of sacrifice
A toast to you, Watchman Nee!
Second a toast to Leonardo Da Vinci
You were the Renaissance man who
Had a wonderful romance with life
You shattered the ordinary matrix and
Produced extraordinary results
You taught me to break the shackles that live within the norm
A toast to you, Leonardo Da Vinci
Third a toast to Bobby Fischer
A man of courage who
Sparked a flame in life
Your work ethic in chess will remain a pathway
So that I can enhance my skills in life
A toast to you, Bobby Fischer
Fourth a toast to the living, Jesus Christ
You are in a class of your own
You are the Specialist and
You are the Author and finisher of my faith
No one compares to you; you know everything!
Your Government is Eternal and you can never fade
A toast to you, Jesus Christ the Greatest of All Time!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023