Long Tip over Poems
Long Tip over Poems. Below are the most popular long Tip over by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tip over poems by poem length and keyword.
SMART MAN
Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
when the dust becomes hard
and the clods of the earth stick together?
Job 38:37b-38 NIV
SMART MAN
Smart man, God gave
you hands - to fill a water jug,
to sprinkle the garden.
Who has bought powdered water,
wrung out the rain from a cloud,
picked the dewdrops, like petals
from the sky? Smart man, who?!
Smart man, who turns to dust
after one hundred years,
who waters your grave, after
the mourners walk away?
How heavy, the water jars
of heaven? The angels huge
with wings, kick them over
at God’s command, not man’s.
Are we just clods, that stick
together. We are set to flight
only at the Lord’s command,
indefensible. Our tongues
cannot stick out to catch
a rain that does not exist.
Resist the Lord, smart man?
Is he not a friend? Is he not
the living water, the living end?
6/21/2022
I'm playing seafaring games on the marble table,
sketching between the blue striations of the stone,
a slab that resembles an ocean to my young mind.
I draw armadas and stick figure Spaniards,
foes that fall into shark-infested waters. Cannons roar silently.
Mum is at the sink drinking. Soon dad will be home,
he will bring with him, two magazines; a ‘Woman's Own’
and the ‘T.V. Times’. He'll have a bottle of sherry for mum,
a ‘Mars Bar’ and a Superman comic for me.
Clock hands crawl nearer. It seems that the terraced house
trembles, slightly at first, but gradually the shaking
gets so I can hardly stay on the stool. I have to hold tight
to the table. Oceans tip over. High waves slosh back and forth
in my mind.
My own stick-figure shudders, teeth chattering together.
My mouth begins to mew like a seagull. Mum looks around,
yells for me to stop -
I can't it's 6.30 P.M. on any Friday, and for a while
we all will be together in this one rocky boat.
~~
Are you ok?
You dizzy?
Did you fall and hit your head?
Is that why forgot about
My being naked in your bed?
Do you need a doctor?
Did you lose your memory?
Perhaps that's why you can't recall
Those lies you said to me
Did you have some sort of trauma?
Get into a wreck?
Why you simply can't remember
Your hungry kisses on my neck?
Did your precious boat tip over?
Deprive your brain of air?
Make you think I don't exist
Like I was never there?
Funny how the mind works
How one can lose their memory
Now you just can't seem to place my face
You never heard of me
Do you care how it hurts to know
That I was just a game?
A shiny toy to play and toss
Then just forget my name?
Well let me introduce myself
Since you seem to have Amnesia
I'm the one you used and screwed
Mighty nice to meet ya!
Once I've said my peace to you
I'll set my anger free
Just know that when I'm done with you
You'll NEVER forget me.
I know I keep on doing wrong moves
I keep failing...falling in a whirlpool of racketing frustration
I'm trying all my tries...so save yourself from drowning
Keep yourself entertained...there's no use of frowning
I guess I have to feel
My way out of trouble
You'll see what I have to show
Oh look! Look how the shores
Rise up in woe...blocking the view of sweet sunshine
It shows that light will always be with us
Though the raving waves swallow us alive
I guess I have to feel
Our way out of trouble
If you look even closer,
You will see fascinating colors
Shaping and forming in the life-giving sea
You'll see what I have to show
Finally we both see
A ship row on top of envious, captivity-like waves
Flowing gently and keeping itself away
From the lifeless,
bottomless water
You'll see what I have to show
I could see color brushed against an island sky
I grow more curious than ever
Where did that ship sail off to?
My mind is wanting to comprehend in this unsettling matter
So I have any idea of guiding?
I'm no skilled sailor or even
Have the knowledge to lead
The ship to its destiny...
It may tip over a couple of times
Here I am...lying down...complaining harshly
I guess this is my farewell to you,
Tackling expedition
It only takes a courageous try
To guide the ship and say goodbye
To the quarrel-stirring waves
I scream:
"Behave, you water balloon head!
Go on and dry up till your dead!"
And here I am again
Roaming and spacing out
Who knows where... I wonder in despair
This task unwillingly pulls me in
I'm here after the expedition,
Knocking on the entrance corridor
To learn some new sailor techniques
I'm here to simply learn
A tip to replenish
The possibility of the ship
Tipping and going overboard
This time I shouldn't discard
This remarkable opportunity
The wind roars like a lion
As a sheet of snow, blows on by
Dusting of white sticks to windows
The weighed down bushes tip over
Outside, there is a brewing war
I walk, bting wind on my face,
By the snowbanks climbing higher
I hear loud scraping of plows
The tree branches crack like gunshots
Suddenly, blinded by white-out
All the animals have hidden
Parked cars are buried, pillowed mounds
No time to keep up with shoveling
The storm is whipping nature
Then it slows, miraculous ways
Change tames wind all around
Smoke now seen from.the tall chimneys
Light breaks through and the war is won
12/26/22
Entry for the winter storm contest. Sponsor : Kim Rodrigues
You do not have to explain
I heard the sense of tame
The lion roared loud within your heart
No words were very smart
Of you to do, the suppressed anger
Now to deal with it release the danger
Different views ways to deal with it all
Listen they will try to call
Right now you are more important and your life ways in the balance
Do not tip over, it maybe a hard challenge
It may be difficult right Now
But now has somehow granted an access to bow
Down to renew restore a chance at it again
To walk upright a smile not to pretend
Hold on
Tormented values given wrong
Release pressure a new song
My dear incredible pen,
you are the pinnacle of writing instruments! Looking refined with your elegant ebony shaft and gold-filagree trim, you are a true technological wonder to behold and a master calligrapher.
I am amazed at your ability to ink my thoughts onto paper without a single smear, skip or blotch. You fit my hand like we were custom crafted as one, allowing me to gently glide your easy-flow tip over a blank canvas and create literary art.
Oh, my dearest, most reliable pen,
I am enthralled by your ability to interpret my scribbled thoughts into meaningful, coherent sentences. You are my inspiration, confidant, and protagonist; I would be lost without your profound influence and companionship.
You have established an almost intimate psychic connection with my muse, and together, we three create poetry. I love the feel of you in my hand; you give me the confidence to explore fantasy while at the same time anchoring me to reality.
My most beloved, exquisite pen,
the mere thought of holding you sends shivers down my spine, for I know you are eager to take me to faraway places we've never been as we explore the deceptions and truths of humanity. You come from a proud line of writing instruments, including cuneiform sticks, quills, and fountain pens, to the ubiquitous ballpoint pens of today. May your ink never dry up, and your contribution to literary works be recognized and appreciated, for you deserve no less.
(Ode)
03/03/2023
Write an Ode Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser
I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.”
Job 3:26 NIV
The way of peace they do not know; there is no justice in their paths. They have turned them into crooked roads; no one who walks along them will know peace.
Isaiah 59:8 NIV
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33 NIV
“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.
Matthew 10:34 NIV
Lord, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished you have done for us.
Isaiah 26:12 NIV
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:13 NIV
Indeed ,this world is in turmoil
So, many corrupt paths and roads
Leaving one exhausted from chaos
Waves that would cause a boat to sink
Winds that would blow it sails to tip over
Many astrologers and meteorologist
That could try and tell one the exact
Day that one could sail for calmness
Oh wait a minute this was not in the forecast
Out of no where the waves and winds
Still come out to cause chaos
There is One which has given
One a way to find peace and rest
To bring a calmness not while just out at sea
But in knowing this road leads to Him
For a separation of the old self or worldly things
By the Holy Spirit guiding and molding.
Within, giving a new understanding
That one has nothing to fear
If we could be in the spirit
All are united as family
The waves and winds come but get rejected
Not of own works
But by faith and the will of Christ
To leave one out on a calm sea
Watching the beauty of God's creation
Unfold daily in His presence
Waiting is like a chair.
Grabbing onto things in your mind.
A benchmark.
An emphasis on none.
Waiting is like a circus of fear.
Wavering trapeze.
A type of thing that is in a list.
Aligned but falling almost.
Waiting is like a door hinge.
Fragile somehow.
Waiting is like a wedge.
Nothing to despair over, but trips me up.
Waiting.
Just an implosion of “X marks the spot.”
Take me over to dig up bones of bones.
Waiting is like a chair!
Waiting is like a chair.
Dragging all over.
Is real.
The trapeze all over.
I waited twenty minutes that day.
Somehow, the room didn’t tip over.
And twenty minutes ran out.
And ran out of me.