Long Tokens Poems
Long Tokens Poems. Below are the most popular long Tokens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tokens poems by poem length and keyword.
Two tokens of the answer, I can offer.
Two glimpses of our meaning, I can proffer.
Not jewels or gold within the chest,
Not power or strength burning in the breast.
The first: an iron rose, set off in the stars.
Lustrous petals clothed in beauty’s very form.
The glory of life that soon will end,
Birthed in armor that will weather any storm.
The second: a mechanical heart, there it spins!
Passion preserved by an endless dance of gears.
Perfected by a secret art to never cease,
Thus it shall be free to love beyond all years.
Why can they not see that both our souls require?
Something that deserves to be; how can it expire?
16 August 2017
??v ?? ?? ?? ? I Love You.............!! ?? v ?? ?? ?? ?
•.?*... ...*?.• •*.
these myopic ocular orbs pine
for an attractive gal to be adored
far eye got the near rest insight
per a magic bullet if jew r bored
undue flattering praises
might induce her 2 c come floored
perhaps without any family, friends, relatives...
or if religious ye kin pray to da lord
unless ya r moored
den let dis senor you ken ease
(doll ling) any troubles
like egg nog gently poured
and unable to move,
or...mebbe trapped by
a white striped tiger who roared
cornered in a spit of jumbled
feeble woodland where
a retinue of wild animals stored
analogously tube he ying
closeted in a mental ward.
not that ye care one whit
boot ta many approximately
72.57 cheesy full moons ago
when me younger days alive
i lived at pennfield manor
where the stern rebuke from robin kratz
faulted disgusting messiness
and angered water bugs
who marched against getting evicted
(where spouse twas
one chaotic rabid follower of entropy
and adherent of utter disorderliness
if such band name of aforementioned
the audience would wave meat cleavers
and as tokens of appreciation,
/Locks and Clocks
We change locks
like we change clocks,
as flippantly as daylight dims,
as easily as days grow slim;
we try to bolt the sunlight out
with combinations masked in doubt
to shorter hours, as if we could
feel like the conqueror who would
shut out those close and dear to us
who used to be the ones we trust.
Clocks and locks are both the same
as tokens in some wordless game
to keep out fear and trusted waifs;
our meager souls no longer safe;
the locks have failed and so the trust
is gone and turned to flaking rust;
the moths have eaten through
those things we hoped to keep brand new;
again our dark night will descend
and we will once again offend.
Like locks and clocks we change our friends
(if ever we could make amends
for things we did with ignorance in place)
and do not receive the coveted embrace
from absent friends who come and go
as night to day diminishes its glow;
where hope runs true within,
returns to come around again
to lengthening days where suns shine bright,
and will dismiss the darkness of our night.
I am a champion,
the thought and feel of it is real,the fact being indisputable and the reality pure,
with others,and in singular isolation victory over the misery of disrections is now,and future,
I am a champion because I have led myself and others to victories,
victories over the malvolent and lurid labors,
living,toiling,dreaming,and breathing within the parameters of a system foriegn
to my instincts, alien to this suture,
I am a champion along with others because I weep incredulity
at the untaught magnitude of a work ethic producing abject glories,
brought to my knees,my heart beats rife with pain,fear, & the mud of doubt,
brought to lunacy by the dispassion that consequence savors,
rising, and rising as emotions explode at the chance and moment for domination,
justification, to obliterate the obstacles,making room for stories,
awaking with dry pain in the eyes,nausea,dizziness,despair,
seeking simple reasons for motivation to go forth,
wishing quixotically for more sleep,
finishing the day feeling dumb,dull and brazen like a fenced horse
hungry for edification,rectification,seeing the great steppe with a risk too deep,
going on week after week with new sprains & strains on mind body & spirit,
always some mistake, cuts, bruises, burns & hyperextensions,
compulsively micromanaging,hyperanalysing, a manic finisher,
nothing will dissuade me from the thankless pursuits of daily perfections,
the anatagonists,the ones who sneer & discourage casually at the noble attempts
of the able champions trying to maximize efficiency,to excel,win,
raising that standard which the mediocre claim can't be improved,
I and others jeapordize our health,safety,sanity so to accomplish the impossible,
I receive no grand trophies,new contracts or publicity,
nobody takes my picture or delivers a prize,
there are no special tokens or passwords on the table,
we strive ferociously for the sake of victory,for the knowledge of limits,
this way setting greater goals & tests,
being testaments for others who climb,
do I want acclaim from Deity for my successes,distinction for my sacrafices, no,
I work hard for me and others to be sublime -
J.A.B.
When Eyes keep finding You
In spite of training the Heart not to
It turns out to be a futile effort
to even think of parting from You
When Days turn into Months
yet your Thoughts keep leaving impact
when ignorance makes me observant
and pay more respect towards You
When your voice shines out of all
I end up believing to be more sensitive
when it's Something about You
It feels important to listen to You
I see light in your mere presence
even when you are actually absent
like tokens of brightness in the dark
You give off hope, leading the right path
So, to tell you the truth
My world does revolve around You
I'm just an observer
always there for You,
and You're in the limelight
always the centre of my Life!
See the black cat run, jump, slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher for life, the apex of its design, all built of little fur and bones, razors, a hunter in miniature.
A professional from birth. Cunning, slick, and sly. In the calculus of black cats that plot and destroy. Do they bring presents of dead mice, bird heads, and stranger things. Yes, they do! To there humans as tokens of respect and devotion…
But, all that fury and murder in a small cute four-legged form a furry little shadow within shadows, with big soulful eyes, they lay waste to your soul's ramparts and snuggle into a little furry ball of furies, as abyssal black stares back into your soul with twin pumpkin fire lights eyes of purrfect piercing design.
They express love without words. They slowly blink emerald eyes, a symbolism of that devotion, as a deep purr of a suttle silent little engine revs as you stroke the ferry beast as it is stretches and yaws, mouth of bright teeth, curls around feet down and hugs your hand as the little endless engine of furry fury cuddles and only just wants loves.
Such the duality of a thing and apex predator in a pint-sized puff ball. Of furry fury… A black cat is a shadow within a shadow running under your feet as you stumble to the restroom at midnight on Halloweens Eve.
They sit and watch the void above your head in the air of the unknown things best left unseen by humanity and only black cats can know. In correlation between black cats and their shadows, they know the unknown, unseen, and undreamed.
See the black cats run, jump, and slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher of life, the apex of its design, all built of little bones, razors, and furry furies.
Cunning, slick, sly as it curls itself around your heart, wanting cuddles, treats with slowly blinking eyes of love, and devotion in the way only a black cat can!
Constanza Poetry Form
Nativity in Piety
We first hailed the Nativity
To greet birth of His Unique Son
During a cold snow-capped season,
During a night of piety
When all the world was in delight
At the Messiah`s divine sight,
When stars of creativity
Were shining bright at midst of night
As tokens of their own birthright
As shepherds flocked to the Mighty
To laud the Sublime Son of God
To the best they could afford
With wreaths of sincerity
To thank the Lord for the Shepherd
Who would lead them to rightful shed.
We first hailed the Nativity
During a night of piety
When stars of creativity
And shepherds flocked to the Mighty
With wreaths of sincerity.
My dear child,
Congratulations for the accomplishment awards you've garnered
in doing your utmost:
medal of honour
victor's crown
beauty titlist sash
championship belt
plaque of recognition
seal of excellence
triumphant trophy
scepter of wisdom
first prize tokens
As an heir of the Father, aim for His heavenly commendation:
salutation of good servanthood
everlasting rewards of faithful* stewardship
joy in ministering to others thru the Lord of lords
blessed name of righteous testimony
overcomer's shining faith
stamp of approval according to biblical standards
"Well done" affirmations for Christ-like attitude...
Ephemeral awards versus eternal rewards ---
Always settle for the precious and priceless
by, through, and for the Almighty God.
Congratulations, my child!
*1Corinthians 4:2 Moreover it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful.
March 3, 2019
A ticket pinned to the thigh reserves it,
the whole cadaver is parceled off - of course.
Legs are a late harvest, these often-indigent parts
carry a visual poverty long after the body is plucked.
Under watchful eyes the young medics
separate muscle groups, filter large blood vessels
from fibrous runnels, hesitant scalpels
seek out fascial planes.
The leg is devolving to scraps,
yet, ingrained in the tissue
I sense residual shades of a former life,
seaside postcards, old photographs,
perhaps campaign ribbons, odd tokens
amongst yellowed newspaper clippings,
all briefly surface as conjectured images
beneath a probing knife.
The gray flesh retains its personal history,
I imagine that behind the knee
there is a wife, children, and a separation
all spectrally etched between femur and tibia.
Much of the ensuing bone-whittling years
are demonstratively scored
across a formaldehyde and jelled narration.
The students suppose they dissect a limb,
while I notion that I turn over bloodless pages,
of an unwritten story,
and now the last few attached ligaments
remain as threads that speak at last
of a long journey’s end.
Kindness makes me smile.
Kindness, by simply being friendly,
or genuinely generous without expecting
anything in return or being deeply considerate.
Kindness makes the giver and the receiver smile.
There are acts of kindness that would not cost the giver
anything that could bring infectious smile, like saying hello,
thank you and compliments, opening or holding a door for
somebody carrying bags or boxes or walking slow or with
a walker and expressing gratitude with a hug or a smile.
The generosity of kind hearted people makes me smile.
People who share their wealth in supporting humanitarian aids
or people who give their time assisting organizations committed
to humanitarian aids for the betterment of the world we live in.
A considerate person, somebody who listens makes me smile.
People, who lend you their ears, not their mouths or in kind
words, people, who listen, not talk when you are talking, giving
the time while being thoughtful and mindful of what you say.
Appreciation from my children, siblings and friends makes me
smile, as well as thoughtfulness in words, in gestures or in gifts.
Getting compliments from strangers makes me smile because it is
unexpected, memorable for positively feeling a sense of connection.
Giving tokens or gifts for showing my appreciation makes me smile.
The time I spend writing poems, having them printed as inserts,
jotting down hellos, thank-yous, greetings or warm wishes in the
cards and sending them by mail, the old-fashion way makes me smile.