Long Upon one Poems
Long Upon one Poems. Below are the most popular long Upon one by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Upon one poems by poem length and keyword.
to her
i’ve never been this far from you
as where i am today
our love is all i’ve left to hold
as time just slips away
i need to be not where i am
no words describe this pain
of being separated from
you on this earthly plane
to Him
do you cry for me dear Lord
do you have one tear
and understand the things i do
are borne from just one fear
i’m facing life without my Love
this sentence handed down
no holding hands no hugs a kiss
till i lay in the ground
to them
who truly can condemn a man
that’s serving out his time
remembering all the little things
in corners of his mind
the difficulty is to face
a sober agony
no drugs to kill devouring pain
just drop upon one knee
Form:
The seeds that dig deep into the heart
rise up with all kinds of vengeance
speaking with a voice that's deceitful
casting upon one-lifetime sentence
When one seeks to get revenge
turns into a street that goes all one way
no u-turns along this certain route
bound are you to follow and stay
This is a journey filled with rage
tensions of passion upon you mount
one thought alone fills your mind
getting revenge blurs you not to count
The one you are searching for
hoping to bring about a nasty end
whose reward will it ultimately be?
the gravediggers know none are a friend
So two graves will be awaiting
for no one will live to fight this one
one's end is clearly seen for the two
no victor here in sight absolutely none
Jack’s back…
With some new words to be exact
You see he has a story to tell
We are talking about… way back when the stars had fell
You know the place over where we people still dwelled
So, he had headed down to the well
Over there where the river had swelled
On this particular day
He decided ok…oh what the hey
I think I will catch me some fish this today
And Jack was in a real greedy way
Cause He had saw a lot of fish in the bay
So, he quickly had casted right away
Now Jack, had caught many a fish that day
But none of them he could actually… sway to stay
You see that had been an ancient… age ago way
It was time to wish upon a star
Upon one so very, very far
So, even though he was parked and had no car
Jack’s frequency had took him to this bar
Now this is where things started really getting bizarre
Then someone cried, look it’s the czar
Jack…Man I am talking it was Thee One Earthstar
You got to write this down in your mind memoir
The wall that the warrior must climb
was not only steep, rough and slippery,
but the weapons of all kinds
were waiting on other side to kill the warrior.
Although, there were warriors so called enemies
much like the warrior who climbs the wall
they glare at the climber from other side of the wall,
with bow and arrow in hand to pierce in climber’s heart,
with hatchet in hand to chop climber’s head,
with sword in hand to stab the climber’s throat,
the climber kept climbing on the wall
that is steep, rough and slippery
as if treasures more precious than his own life is there
on the other side of the wall.
When the climber came to the top of the wall,
the flying arrow dashed over for his life,
the spear thrust his heart,
the hatchet copped his forehead,
the sword stabbed his throat,
and, when the climber shed his blood and fell with ghastly cry
a warrior other side of the wall also fell,
and when these two lie upon one another
their blood ran down on the wall in the setting sun
with the color of crimson that is redder than the glow of the setting sun.
Come with a smile,
come with a wink.
Come to the land
of pink, pink, pink.
Imagine
yourself
as a pale pink fairy,
wearing an earring
that's a pink clip-on,
and real pastel pink petals
held in your pinkie,
pointing to the pink chink
glow upon the horizon
at dawn.
The garden's dye this July
is floral pink blossoms.
And at times I do
have such pinkish dreams,
where everything is hued
in pink ice-creams.
Where I own a fine
posh pink cadillac,
parked in a pink chateau
festooned
with fallen pink lilac.
That,
overlooking
a pink sea
ebbing on pink pebbles,
where a pink moon
looks like big bubbles.
In pink colors,
if I could customize
'n'
personalize
my world:
so pink cushions all about,
and pink curtains unfurled!
My birthdays always wish
for pink balloons.
Oh, I love to decorate
and celebrate
with pink festoons.
And nature lovers could watch
salmon pink flamingoes
who stand upon one leg,
hiding
half their pink toes.
Or even bunny rabbit eyes
in bright pink glows.
Ah, pink's so feminine.
Think of pink hair pins,
pink lips 'neath two pink
blush cheeks,
right above cute
chinny chins,
or as buds in a rosebush
take pinkish peeks.
I see as well baby pink
frocks
and frilled pink socks,
and pink pom-pom caps
upon golden locks,
their pink sashes behind
them upon the walks.
Ah, I've always believed,
and still I think,
that pinkish is girlish and
girlish is pink.
A POET’S MUSE
To this poet’s muse pressed upon the page
Of words that linger, and of an imagery set
Such is the alteration of every man’s stage
Where the players of the words as engage
Playing with their emotions, they do beset
To this poet’s muse pressed upon the page
As even centuries can be of a different age
When nowt' within the lines, is ever preset
Such is the alteration of every man’s stage
Words of man, or god's, one cannot gauge
When their thoughts, are to intertwine yet
To this poet’s muse pressed upon the page
As oft to its characteristics, one may wage
When the purpose within the lines, we get
Such is the alteration of every man’s stage
To the words written, one too can assuage
When fearful words that upon one, did fret
To this poet’s muse pressed upon the page
Such is the alteration of every man’s stage
From riven ways and lent-for heaven’s vault
we clime on breath enwrit with slender ink,
each word a sworn avouchment ’gainst the dark,
each line a stout denial unto Lethe.
Hands erst in thrall do now the aether shape
with sigils forged of cinder, ash, and balm;
the orphan’s moan, the widow’s fervent cry,
lie twinn’d upon one consecrated leaf.
No tongue herein is beggared or despised—
the hush’d confession, clamant plea alike;
the scripture born of weal and wounded flesh
doth pace as peers in kingly even-stead.
We sing of marches loos’d from iron will,
of Right relearning how to quicken fair;
for Peace is not engender’d out of hush,
but sired by heedful ear to elder griefs.
This labour is no idle courtly sport,
nor dalliance of metre, wit, and breath—
it is a synod call’d by mortal hope,
where Mercy mounts the throne of trembling Fear.
Here, in these staves, the world recalls itself:
that Freedom waketh when all tales are weigh’d,
and Concord draweth first untroubled breath
when every soul long mute is bid to sing.
a spirit gasps
swimming passion
in your
mere presence
flowing golden
each breath
inside desires
breathtaking looking
upon one treasure
exploding fireworks
the soul dances
awestruck by beauty
dazzling reflections
shine within
these eyes
whispering ever
so softly
carried upon
a silent
breathless air
priceless feelings
skipping heartbeats
sparkling diamond emotions
with treasured joy
sweetly warm happiness
sings within
a song
caressing love waves
leaving your soft
gentle footprints
touching sweeps
over deep sands
brushing currents
in an ocean
blue paradise
i found
a dream inside
the heart
your golden beautiful
my queen
I think all poets
know the refrain:
“May he rest in peace...”
The blessed phrase,
Known to every card
writer; to every jingle
reciter – even Clay, the
Fighter, quite The Poet,
feared no man's blow when
impulsed to show it.
And more serious poets,
the bulk of our many, ponder
through night after restless
night, the heartfelt subjects of
world peace and world blight;
tossing and turning, minds
flexing and burning...
upon one dear
poet's funeral – the last dirt-pile
shoveled – ground neatly patted,
nearly leveled; following the priest's
eloquent benediction of Word,
a poet's wife's mutter was clearly heard:
her eyes quite red, darkened as if applied
circles of black lithium grease “Now, perhaps,
finally!~I can Rest In Peace....”
I saw him before I saw her…(I believe she was holding the door.)
There was a far away look in his eyes as he shuffled his feet on the floor.
I felt a twinge of sorrow for him as he slowly labored past
Each step seemed so difficult…more challenging than the last.
I saw her next when she caught up to him and I thought how nothing could compare
with the smile on her face as she helped him to his chair.
She fixed his hair, she straightened his clothes with an ease, a tenderness…a grace
and as she tended to his every need that smile never left her face.
I did not know this couple whom I assumed were man and wife
but as I watched them endure the ravages of age I imagined younger moments in their life.
The moment hey first met, when they fell in love…when they lived in younger skin
I imagined them with friends and family…imagined all the places they had been…
A lifetime spent in love together was not difficult to surmise
I saw it in the gentleness of her touch…and in the sparkle of her eyes.
When our eyes met for a moment I saw how her smile was masking her pain
and I thought how the more her husband slips away…the more her love remains.
I believe when we happen upon one another…even momentarily in a day
from every brief encounter…we take something away.
It may be a look…a smile…a glance…a gesture from afar
that finds it’s way into our heart and reshapes who we are.
As I left my brief encounter and walked to my car in a misty rain
I thought about that moment…about how she smiled through her pain…
and though there was a hint of sadness as I drove home by the sea
it wasn’t her sadness…it was her love…I took away with me.
A love so beautiful…so everlasting…so quietly proclaimed
It made me smile when I thought of it…
knowing I’d never be the same.