Long True Poems
Long True Poems. Below are the most popular long True by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long True poems by poem length and keyword.
The one who cries without tears, without a sound—
That’s a father.
The one who wears the cracks of his children’s fate
Like bangles on his own wrist—
That’s a father.
New shoes enter the house,
But his soles are worn down to nothing—
That’s a father.
The one who dreams through others' eyes,
And carries those dreams in his heart—
That’s a father.
It’s true, a mother holds us for nine months in her womb,
But the one who carries us in his mind for nine months—
That’s a father.
A father is a protector,
A father is a meal on the table,
A father is the one who loses to his own children
Just to make them smile—
That’s a father.
A father does everything, but never says—
And when we finally understand his worth,
By then, he’s already gone far away...
I ponder your marvel, Jesus, "holy"!
Revealed to that blind man who loudly cried,
Begging your mercy on him, who's lowly...
You asked him the obstacles on his stride.
And in answer, O, preserver of "life"!
He begged your glance on him as his true guide.
For long he'd undergone many a strife.
His blindness had made an enduring scar.
Hurdles he had faced abundantly rife.
He implored to perceive truths as they are.
And your loving "grace" to discern always,
Granting him your wisdom excellence par…
Perception presumes positive soul rays.
The light of "faith" should permeate the heart.
By God's words, our actions should get ablaze.
The blind man wanted to become a part,
Of the endless creative deeds of God,
Full of "hope"; in holiness set apart…
You looked at him with "love" and a smile broad
He received your enhancing mercy look!
"Joy" filled him and your kindness he did laud.
---
We, indeed, need always the Jesus look
Jesus look is - look with no hook or crook.
11 June 2021
Jesus Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Since I began my poetical journey, Mister Guest has been my inspiration.
To emulate this extraordinary poet has ever been my motivation.
He had that rare ability to portray the ordinary wonders of every-day life;
Impish children, the warmth of home and an occasional shrewish wife!
'Twas in my high school English classes that with him I was smitten.
Since then I've enjoyed nearly every poem that he has ever written.
He has gladdened my soul with his wide range of emotions.
His is poetry that has touched hearts here and across the oceans!
"It takes a heap o' livin' in a house to make it home!"
Ah! That splendid line of his evokes warmth of family in my dome!
His is verse that folks can associate with that will stand the test of time.
No haiku or blank verse for him - he wrote with rhythm and rhyme!
He wrote about the joys of youth and the contentment of old age;
Of the vicissitudes of life, dispensing words of advice so sage;
Of the value of work, of beggars and kings and the miracle of love;
The camaraderie of true friendship and guidance from Above.
Dear to my heart shall always be the poetry of Edgar Guest.
His works have inspired generations and we've all been truly blessed.
His legacy will every be the poetry he left behind for the human race.
He has crossed that mysterious veil and now rests in God's embrace.
Carry the light as best you can.
Whether at home or a foreign land.
But teach your children while you may.
To read the Bible and what to say.
You feed your children and watch them grow.
You send them to school, this we all know.
But teach them to live in the way that is best.
To walk in the way of those who are blessed.
To always be true and know right from wrong,
To remain productive long after you're gone.
Raising your children is a difficult task.
But it's so important and they grow up so fast.
Don't live willy-nilly, watch what you do.
You'll be very happy after you're through.
Someone is watching who hears what you say.
You have to be careful how you live day by day.
For children are born we know that is true.
But that's the beginning the rest is on you.
Babies are sweet, their skin soft as silk.
Babies are born but leaders are built
A noble trade a soldier made
To fight and serve my country
The cradle fix indoctrinates
A nationalistic junkie
As in Oman true colours shown
A philanthropic lie
Semper fi, death before dishonor
Ours is to do or die
I fought to serve my country
Well prepared to pay rhe toll
Blood sweat and tears I freely shed
But my country wants my soul
A bloody tale so deftly written
Etched deeply, growing colder
An ode so deathly chilling
In a song sung for a soldier
Carried high in the wind
For whom.the bell tolls
Dark secrets revealed
Like Dead Sea scrolls
I've toiled in the depths
Of a depraved quagmire
My feet engulfed
In brimstone and Hellfire
Though you can't bear the weight
Of a heart that is heavy
When it's your turn to pay
Can you handle the levy
A fight to the death
A bone for to eat
Do you fare any better
Than the dogs in the street
I don't know whence it started
With just one single tear
But pretty soon the damage done
Was far beyond repair
It hangs there in life's war-drobe
A shining Christening robe
Don the garb of Nationalism
That's worn around the globe
The tear in you had lain hidden
As tears so often do
Until that tear is beyond repair
From mending tread or glue
The Devils a joker
If its laughter you're after
But his punchline gets told
In the here ever after
I failed to find the honor
Nor the righteousness of war
Dulcet et decorum est
Is my deeply hidden scar
Our crucifixes broken
Scattered in Elysians Halls
No words of comfort spoken
As the Tears of Jesus fall
Rapunzel
Rapunzel rolling down your barriers
dazzling jewels opening sparkling chambers
one begins climbing each curling warm feeling
touching each emotion sweetly
one step a little closer in kissing
each and every memory entering
sharing these thoughts
cherishing every last minute
each minute special
each second heavenly
Rapunzel heart of a rose
your lips sweet blushing
silk satin petals soft lips
blushing as you my love entranced
entering your one tower
letting your hair down smiling
the bath we walk heading forward
none of us really have a clue
but each strand holding
unto a perfect dream
Rapunzel princess of my dreams
thoughts and love intertwined
walking hand in hand now
both blessed with passion
both blessed with emotion
both blessed with true love
walking together unafraid
talking caressing holding kissing
arms locked embracing passion
a perfect dream forever
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
October 13, 2014 (Free Verse)
~ My Dearest Love ~
( Cinquain Suite )
~O~
For you
My love grows more
With heart so full of love
While dreaming of you always 'neath
Moon stars
o~ O ~o
So soft
Your love just comes
Like a breath of fresh air
I feel your presence inside me
Day night
o~ O ~o
You are
My shining star
My only one true love
My love for you will always shine
So true
o~ O ~o
My sweet
Love I love you
So and very much more
For you my loves forever and
Ever.
~O~
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2017
February.05.2020
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain-
~Author's Notes:
The " Cinquain " is a poetry form or style developed by the American Imagist poet, Adelaide Crapsey.
Dreams from my silly childhood realm,
that spoke of blissful fairy wonderland,
where happiness and joy walk hand-in-hand
Such were the dreams I wanted to claim.
Dreams of rosy life without thorn and fear,
fantasy of far away days that are dear.
But now, real life has put me in gloom,
when I see that life is not without lots of thorns,
for no crown can come without the pain of cross.
Yes I know, true life I can still reclaim,
if I take life's joy and all its blow,
that is how to say I need to grow.
If I live a true life with no extreme,
everything will be under control,
and a new me will stand on her sole.
Dreams from my silly childhood realm,
such were the dreams I wanted to claim.
But now, real life has put me in gloom.
Yes I know, true life I can still reclaim.
If I live a true life with no extreme.
The structure, or plot, of a poem is, in my opinion, like the melody in music. It's what holds the words together and keeps us reading...
A present's not a gift until someone sends or brings it,
But a poem is still a song even if no one sings it.
You may think you can't write lyrics, but you're wrong,
If you ever wrote a poem, you wrote a song.
Every poem has a melody inside it,
Although in free verse it's much easier to hide it.
Take, for instance, Mr. Whitman's "Leaves of Grass".
Now, this is a masterpiece, no doubt,
And I don't mean to be too critical, or crass,
But it's laboriously long,
And notoriously short on song,
And although he does give it a nod,
I find it somehow rather odd
That by the end he's all but left the music out.
If what he calls "singing" is so by definition,
It's well camouflaged by piles of superfluity
And about a million unnecessary miles of exposition.
To perform his piece in public Walt's fans rarely get invited.
It takes almost as long to read the thing,
As it took the guy to write it*.
Now, lest you think that I forgot
The premise of this piece, I've not.
It's true I wandered from the path a bit,
But with alacrity, I'll now get back to it.
Most lyrics don't require one jot
Of setting, dialogue, or plot,
But what the better ones have got
Is lots of good old rhythm, rhyme, and repetition.
Every time you write a poem you make a miracle,
And even more so when that miracle is lyrical.
*It is not my intention to impugn or demean Mr. Whitman's work. "Leaves of Grass" was a monumental opus, way ahead of its time, that he worked on for 37 years, from its first publication in 1855, at his own expense, until his death in 1892. To the best of my knowledge, it has never been choreographed or set to music. A reason for that, I suspect, may be that no composer or choreographer wanted to risk growing old, infirm, blind, and possibly dying before the task could be completed.
Please allow me to come clean
I love you, have you seen?
Do you even know what I mean?
I mean I am attracted to you
And I hope you are, too.
And if you are, then thank you.
I am aware, love’s tricky like Sudoku
But trust me, what I feel for you is true.
I love you, a lot
the real you, not what you have or do not.
Let me share with you, my free thought.
I want to be with you like a Matthew Walker knot.
Hold your hand when you’re in your happy spot
I want to be there for you, when you’re going through a lot.
I want to walk with you, feeling the sun on our arms.
Wake up with you, to the sound of your alarms.
Allow me to be the one
To put you out of your misery when you feel alone.
Text you, well done
When you did something and won.
However, I’ll also comfort you when you lose
And give you a round of applause
Because you’re the one I choose
Perfect or not, along with your flaws
Considering that love has no laws.
I said, I love you
I hope you believe it because it’s true.
You’re all I want to be close to.
Waking up next you would be the greatest view.
Matthew Walker knot: a decorative knot that is used to keep the end of a rope from faying