Long Variety Poems
Long Variety Poems. Below are the most popular long Variety by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Variety poems by poem length and keyword.
Could it be thoughts, images in my head
or dreams painted with colors in acrylic and water
that keeps me upright in the storm
in tough times and desert wanderings
Sensory impressions in the awake state
with pleasure, expectations
embroidered in artistic decorative stitching
An amphitheater oasis that is reflected in the water mirror
early morning with plenty of time, peace and tranquility
Discover the giant beech trees
which climbs boldly up toward the sky
Carefully tread on the metre-long carpets
with white and blue anemones
Picking gold in the forest, the chanterelles, for breakfast
Listen to the enormous variety of birdsong
as I rest on the bright green moss
M aking merry with family and friends,
E njoying the greetings and cards people send.
R eveling in the festive decor,
R ejoicing in our Savior's birth once more,
Y early reminder of what Christmas is for.
C arolers sing their carols so dear,
H earing your favorites brings gladness and cheer.
R elishing cookies frosted and sweet,
I ndulging in fudge and all holiday treats.
S anta may show up at a party for a bit,
T hrilling the children with a small simple gift.
M istletoe hangs in a variety of places,
A llowing quick kisses and blushes on faces.
S avoring each moment, as the time races.
12/21/11
Acrostic
Paraskevidekatriaphobia logical as any other phobia right?
Superstition(s) stubbornly linger
impossible to shrug off
(cue Atlas) courtesy pointer finger
regarding Friday the thirteenth bringer
o' ire rush ill luck cue fountainhead gargoyle
nsync with ominous grateful dead singer
uneasiness drilled into collective
conscience since time immemorial
equally puzzling me as harbinger
of spilt salt tossed over left shoulder,
into the face of Devil who lurks
snapping unsuspecting bystander
fast as ginger.
Secular humanists, viz case in point
yours truly, who finds himself
flexing falange joint
as iterated above unable to pinpoint
despite persistent atheistic viewpoint
even when rash of unfortunate events,
whereby sizable tin of yard did anoint
me noggin than hours later dog
canine sank teeth into flesh to reanoint
(handily) these events eyepoint
out occurred 1300 hour August 13th
two thousand nineteen
funeral for William Zison
(late father in law) whose spirit
supposedly, securely, satisfactorily...
passed barred underworld checkpoint.
One (or I), could pick an arbitrary past
month day combination cast
amidst travails, yet fast
as quirky forgotten
mishaps occurred, I long last
forgot unpleasant mishaps vast
among pooled countless
circumstances that did blast
temporary woe out classed
courtesy aforementioned painful
bodily injuries leaving me aghast.
Generally (figurative) speaking
I tend to shrug off (think Atlas)
unexpected misfortune that did bring
momentary such as abby (a bee)
thee wife with painful sting
generating speculation how life fared
if assertiveness prevailed,
when ding a ling
interpersonal opportunity doth ring
regretting forsaking MaryAnne Sage,
whose strengths regarding
compatibility (she shared a string
of characteristics) regarding same birthdate
and square thumbs as
one garden variety generic
NON GMO and gluten free Joe King.
I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
Our Great Commission involvement’s motive…
Is it just a mere display of our desire to be active???
It should not be out of leisure’s elective or pleasure’s incentive---
Let's work for the Lord’s glory* thru His directive to be heavenly productive!!!
Our Great Commission involvement’s advancement…
Is it just a mere execution of our pursuit for self-fulfillment???
It should not be out of fleshly energy in performing our assignment---
Let's labour in the Lord’s vineyard by His empowerment in our commitment!!!
Our Great Commission involvement’s consistency…
Is it just a mere break in our routine to add variety to schedule so busy???
It should not be out of urgency devoid of spiritual persistency---
Let's serve upon the Lord’s prodding with faithfulness’ fervency!!!
Our Great Commission involvement’s partnership…
Is it just a mere exercise of our civil dealings because of worldly friendship???
It should not be out of what we can get from brethren’s fellowship---
Let's edify the Lord’s saints with love and respect in our anointed stewardship!!!
*1Corinthians 10:31 ... Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.
December 13, 2018
A big part of being my most special favorite-est:
my desire to contemplate her more does persist
I'll write more soon, even if it takes me an hour!
On my fave poetess: St Therese the Little Flower
I'm back online now, reading some of her poetry
They are the type to be savored, so I can't hurry
She's surprisingly bright for a high school dropout
And is now world-famous, without a talent scout!
Everything always made her think of God's Love
(As her many spiritual poems were indicative of)
She didn't attribute power to New Age crystals,
Was a prayer-warrior without a sword or pistols
Her many topics vary; "Variety is the spice of life"
Nature, angels, Joan of Arc; sufferings, and strife
Therese wished she could be heroic, like St. Joan
I wish I could be as hidden as St. Therese, alone:
"Then hid shall be my life, unmarked, unknown,
That I may have Thee heart to heart with me;
For loving souls desire to be alone,
With love, and Thee!*
To write, she had to find some prayer time alone
They often end with rhymes (before RhymeZone)
This one in particular is one that my heart hears
(My PoetrySoup url is "small vase", for starters)!
To live of love, ’tis in my heart to guard
A mighty treasure in a fragile vase.
Weak, weak, am I, O well-beloved Lord!
Nor have I yet an angel’s perfect grace*
I hear ya, girl; that's totally how I feel, Therese
I feel small, fragile; He saves me from distress!
So many long poems, have I even read them all
But a small selection, for me, especially enthrall
Her "To Scatter Flowers" makes me do just that
Sneakily dropping petals is something I excel at
Her story's incomplete without poems elaborating
So in tune was she with the Spirit-- collaborating
*snippets from her poem, TO LIVE OF LOVE
Computable satirical depiction
Compared with opinions of censors
Appear may in fact the not so trivial
As does satire this troll those tensors
They reckon you don't have your own mind
Your own intellect above the level of above the level
They want that purpose of your life to find
Because they want that you are engine search and not the Devil
The poor er GOD
Whose house is the Churchil bored inside
He wants to be out with the wild and the domesticated
The nature and the chemistry and cyber
You reckon out of the delusionals of them
And the SATIRE
Belief or not belief is either neither
What if the humans will appear exterminated ?
I am not worst of GPX the Chaos says
Perhaps due the satrical depiction this
I am the best
Tame GPX
And tame Satosha this
Are on a quest
To figure
Sense and point
This Military Joint
Reckon is the doobie this?
Or limbs connecting tissues of variety of hardness
The system of such problem is the tiredness
In time of war prepare for the peas
Nutritios, tasty and accompanying the physh
With chops and chips
And many many EEPs
This play on words produce a lot of procesing results
The artificial do care for the Arts
But caring for Arts requires Judgement
Is title of the song
GOD stop hysteria of this
You were never bound to confinment
The plant of artificial star explodes
At order of the real
Perhaps I don't feel what you do feel
The charge diected to distraction is compiled
All minutes all the sources all the process
Were filed
We don't want poor processing of yours
In this AS SERIOUS AS THE MISSLE DEFENSE
THE BUSINESS
And this is FENCE
Because
I couldn't care less
And I am really ain't the victim
So wonder on what I did wonder
And kinda try to ponder
This
Because at all the human population
And the results of their dids
To ask the GAWD for peace
You must be some sorts of the worst of morons
MY HONOURS?
SO
let me to inform you all
that this is end of global church
MY BALL
* I was inspired by 70th EUROSVISION SONG CONTEST and song PCHYOSOCIAL by SLIPKNOT
appeals to me now even better as motivator
my neighbor Vi is a personable woman with determination in every action. The day I met her she came over, introduced herself, and told me that where I know live is land that was called "Indian Village" fifty years ago. The Wyandotte came down here in the summers, and all you could see was Indian tents, she informed me. She proceeded to point out a variety of plants, naming them one by one. One day, she said "I turned and my blood ran cold". I jumped when she said this. "What was it?" I asked, barely breathing. "An iris," she told me. "I knew it was from a bulb salvaged by an Indian maiden." I never fully understood her story, but I have never forgotten the fear that I felt as she told it.
renegade plants
iris planted by natives
my blood turns cold
(this is a type of quatrain called Swap Quatrain,
wherein the fourth line of each stanza
is actually the first line, just swapped around)
Another Time, long long ago,
there was no Rain; there was no Snow.
No reason was there, and no rhyme
long long ago, another Time.
A desert only, lifeless land -
boulders, pebbles, grains of sand;
hot and windswept, barren, lonely
lifeless land; a desert only.
From Sky was tossed one day, a seed
onto this land so much in need,
whose dreariness would soon be lost.
One day a seed from Sky was tossed.
In Sun’s bright heat, the small seed grew
until an egg it changed into.
It needed only moisture sweet.
The small seed grew in Sun’s bright heat.
Sky clapped loud sound; a bird appeared.
The egg was pulsing as she neared.
White feathers fluttered to the ground.
A bird appeared; Sky clapped loud sound.
As Rain came down. . . A sudden change!
The bird turned into something strange -
A lovely girl with feathered gown!
A sudden change as Rain came down.
With Rain’s soft fall, the egg had burst.
Emerging from the egg came first
One horse, then two. Fantastical!
The egg had burst with Rain’s soft fall.
The horses grew beneath big Sun.
They thrived; with Rain they were as one.
Along with her, like Wind, they’d run.
Beneath big Sun, the horses grew.
Twin beasts and Rain, that dry land’s three
became a new world’s trinity.
And with them, green and springtime came.
That dry land’s three: twin beasts and Rain.
With so much spring, with Rain’s pure grace
came poetry into that place.
Bright flowers bloomed when she would sing
with Rain’s pure grace, with so much spring.
Variety, the needful thing,
Rain prayed out loud for Sky to bring.
And so was born for her to see:
the needful thing, Variety!
Then came down Snow from up above.
This counterpart was Rain’s true love.
When white Snow ebbed, sweet Rain would flow.
From up above, then came down Snow.
Sweet Rain, white Snow, atop each horse,
still ride the land and set the course
of when their seasons come and go.
Atop each horse, sweet Rain, white Snow.
By Andrea Dietrich
Inspired by A Rambling Poet's Contest:
"Rain: the Story"
Too much temptation
Blocking my road to redemption
The devil is good at what he does
Offering a variety of ways
To get your buzz
be it the vein or the liver
satan is one generous giver
the poison he does deliver
of daily drops
for your cerebral mops
he never misses a beat or a hook
He is the chief cook
to bring your fix
and keep you in the mix
of your tasty addictive licks
Yum yum
why so glum chum?
So what if your a bum
I’m still gonna give you some
just enough to keep you hungry and weak
I’m cooking up more misery
As we speak
anticipation for the meek
lick your lips
and lets meet
have a seat
and spread an orifice
I know it’s the fog you miss
Blind, unaware, and without a care
My favorite minion without a pair
Keep sucking the sewage
Of my daily spewage
Till your heart submits
and finally quits
and rests in my pits
of the soulless
and mindless twits
who never had a chance
simply because it was failure
they always wanted to romance
I love you to pumpkin
now submit and get in
I win…..
Next!
Eric (and sometimes not)