Long Unless Poems
Long Unless Poems. Below are the most popular long Unless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unless poems by poem length and keyword.
We care not for a this or that ism
For these but address mind
Ignite oh God, our feeble form prism
Making heart pure and kind
That we be love entwined
God’s breath brings to life, organic dust
Why then are we so proud
For too long we’ve given vent to lust
Our thoughts too are quite loud
They shouldn’t be allowed
The sun shines equally upon all
Mother Earth nurtures us
It’s our dark desires that make us fall
Why for then needless fuss
Let us board God’s bliss bus
Perfunctory prayer is of no use
Unless we shift within
Divine aligned, we can never lose
Let’s here and now begin
Go in hermit, go in
01-April-2023
God Bless The USA
Independence Day 2021
Miracle Man Thoughts
7/2/2021
The freedom we have has never been free,
yet many in our country are espousing hate.
If things are so bad why don’t they just flee,
with God, our own destiny, we can freely create.
Throughout history men and women have stood,
in the hedges, and for freedom, filled the gap.
Today, many view the government as Robin Hood,
and are seemingly unhappy unless starting a flap.
But as we celebrate this year let each remember,
and count our blessings for the place we live.
Many share a goal of this country to dismember,
and with outstretched hands, are unwilling to give.
Humbly allowed
myself proud-- of
endowed graces
my will is free
pray for me, for
holy, pure mind
purity's crown
makes some frown, but
i'm down with it
my heart agrees
with Kolbe's, that
we please her heart
Immaculate,
sorrows split, if
admit to sins
humbling my pride
don't just hide, from
God's side of Love
friends are okay
unless they-- lead
astray my soul
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no account of wrongs. Love takes no pleasure in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
(1 Corinthians 13:4-7)
We live and dream all for love
everything we do is all for love
What good is fortune and fame
if each night no one calls your name
We all need someone to love
The world can be so lonely
feeling empty unless if only
there is love to share
there is love to care
We all need someone to love
Love is the reason we try so hard
Love is the reason we reach so far
Someone who is everything for you
Someone who you're everything too
We all need someone to love
We live and dream all for love
everything we do is all for love
Happiness is people who love you to
with a special someone so true
We all need someone
that very special someone...
All for love.
My Son Kenneths’ Birthday Present
2022
I can't paint you a pretty picture
I can't give you a lot of cash
But I hope what mommy gives you will forever always last
I can't recall the color, the one you love the best
But I do recall some good times and I am sure there's plenty left
I can tell you some funny jokes and the rules to your daddy’s game
But unless he’s here to speak to them they really are not the same
I can tell you about your childhood and some stunts you/they tried to pool
I can remind you of the feelings when you realized we/they were/weren't’ fools
And I hope what mommy gives you will forever always last
Although they made you change your name to have a place to live
Maybe in reality that’s all they had to give
But now that you became a man, and learned a lot alone
I hope you please remember that your never far from home.
Having been strong was a practical tool to battle
those adversities that taunted me more than
classmates' games and mischiefs;
I hardly fall for anything other than candid affection,
admitting my fragilities is humble:
I don't declare nobility and excessive riches.
If this vulnerability can be defined as
the Achille's Heel, then it must fit me so perfectly;
I won't be happy until I see many happy faces,
hands full of gifts and tears of gratitude:
nothing can be claimed as mine showing a greedy attitude.
I'm fully clothed and not relying on the usual consuetude,
and its rules of either poverty or nobility concessively.
I've been punched hard and still standing up, my knees
never bent a speck or made me quickly fall face-down;
if giving in is a definition of weakness mine never was
a declaration of defeat unless morality seeped into this brain
and I became as frail as a helpless bird being shot by hunters.
The insolent are unable to understand fragility against prowess,
everything is taken away from them, being been stripped of all power...
what they are left with is uncertainty to guide them through the chaos,
chanting and despairing in the valley of eternal hopelessness;
think like I do: withness all the horrors without pulling a hair.
as long as we search for a this or that
employing a prayer or mantra or a chant
the doer in us manifests and thus we fall flat
we believe that unless we strive for what we want
we will be denied elixir of divine sublime bliss
we need to stand erect but posture slants
ascension is as joyful as a loves kiss
truth ego mind would have us disbelieve
we need to do nothing, yet struggle to finish
how simple can it get, yet the truth we try to weave
God omnipresent, He must be here, now, within
save love yearning no truths there to sieve
immediate and intimate, closer than our skin
God Himself breathes us enlivening feeble form
head and heart melded with love, we are free of sin
surrender is the only way, inviting the benign bliss storm
extinguishing ego spawned delusion of separation
felt within clearly as magnetic heat warm
thus divine energy sensed as bliss ignition
vaporises our lower mind once we cease to resist
gripping thus our attention in continuum of meditation
this, dear hermit, is the all of it and the gist
we be to become a divine entwined bliss mist
18-May-2021
Cometh the end of each and every
December
January so to with it as well bringeth a
new year to start a fresh once all over
again
And though the time and date and
solar winds may change
The seasons somehow however never seemingly do
The sky is still just as blue as the sun
is red grass is green as is the night
tinged in black
Just as like when spring and summer
eventually return and dawn
Denote it's time to pack away our
winter warming clothes into the
back of our closets and cupboard
draws
That unless we truly feel within and
inside our head and heart's
A certain individual kind of love
and caring does reside that warms
us dearly
Then matter's not the time or season
place or age
Tomorrow they will be no more richer or
poorer
If nothing changes and everything remains
The Boss Up in His Tower
By Franklin Price
12/8/2016
The boss up in his tower, and the worker down below
Had somehow disconnected, how it happened who's to know
Been together since conception of the business and the plan
Each one knew the job to do, both the worker and the man
The years went by, the profits grew, the way was bright and clear
The worker was dependable; worked hard from year to year
The boss became an egotist, puffed out his chest with glee,
” Look at me, without me, where would the worker be?”
It was he who had succeeded, all the profits were his own,
He moved into a mansion as the company had grown.
Drove expensive autos. vacationed foreign lands
The worker ran the business, exceeding all demands
The worker fed his family, paid utilities and tax,
Often went to Goodwill for the clothes upon their backs
The car he drove was ten years old, and always breaking down,
Barely got the kids to school, wife to discount stores in town.
For vacations to a foreign land there was no hope at all
Unless the money gambled, won the elusive power ball
So the worker kept on working, just to barely pay the rent
At Christmas time a gift certificate, for a turkey, he was sent.
The worker finally had enough and went out on his own
His wife and children helped him, by answering the phone.
He worked hard to develop a better life for him
Soon hired his own workers, paid a living wage to them
The worker kept succeeding; knew all not due to him.
Each person, that he hired, was a loyal working gem.
His policy was sharing all the profits to appear.
His workers could pay all their bills and take vacations every year.
The worker was not stupid; knew some hires just got by
Would barely get their jobs done, did not really want to try
Took off every chance they got, did not work so well for him
Did not deserve the profit sharing and, with warnings, fired them.
The boss that he had left behind saw the error of his ways
He had not done it all himself, being greedy never pays.
Customers bought from the worker, for the quality was there.
The boss lost most his business, he had no one left to care.
He’s a man of few words when he wants to be
And his silence can rival the Sphinx,
But be spins a good yarn during therapy
With his analyst pouring the drinks.
His obsession with fishing’s a mania,
Always dying to dangle the bait.
His aversion to marriage, a phobia,
His fiancée will just have to wait.
It’s all cowboy psychiatry, mirrors and smoke
In some Freudian home on the range.
Though this good ol’ boy’s often laid out on the couch,
I don’t think he’s likely to change.
He’s obsessive compulsive habitually
In matters to which he is drawn,
And he’s down at the topless bar ritually,
Unless there’s a football game on.
He’s conflicted about schizophrenia,
Thinks anxiety’s nothing to dread.
He exhibits selective amnesia,
And he’s passive aggressive in bed.
It’s all cowboy psychiatry, cognitive bull,
And those inkblots are all kind of strange.
He’ll always deny its denial, no doubt.
I don’t think he’s likely to change.
Regardless his problems,
He’d rather be thera-pissed off, than thera-pissed on.