Long Vices Poems

Long Vices Poems. Below are the most popular long Vices by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vices poems by poem length and keyword.


Epigrams Ii

Epigrams II

Sex Hex
by Michael R. Burch

Love's full of cute paradoxes
(and highly acute poxes).
 
***
 
Midnight Stairclimber
by Michael R. Burch

Procreation
is at first great sweaty recreation,
then—long, long after the sex dies—
the source of endless exercise.

***

The One True Poem
by Michael R. Burch

Love was not meaningless ...
nor your embrace, nor your kiss.

And though every god proved a phantom,
still you were divine to your last dying atom ...

So that when you are gone
and, yea, not a word remains of this poem,

even so,
We were One.

***

The Poem of Poems
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

This is my Poem of Poems, for you.
Every word ineluctably true:
I love you.

***

Here and Hereafter
by Michael R. Burch

Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ...
wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter.

***

Meal Deal
by Michael R. Burch

Love is a splendid ideal
(at least till it costs us a meal).

***

Vice Grip
											
There’s no need to rant about Al-Qaeda and ISIS.
The cruelty of “civilization” suffices:
our ordinary vices.

***

Piecemeal
by Michael R. Burch

And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.

***

The Whole of Wit
by Michael R. Burch

for Richard Moore

If brevity is the soul of wit
then brevity and levity 
are the whole of it.

***

Redefinitions

Faith: falling into the same old claptrap.—Michael R. Burch

Religion: the ties that blind.—Michael R. Burch

Baseball: lots of spittin’ mixed with some hittin’.—Michael R. Burch

Trickle down economics: an especially pungent golden shower.—Michael R. Burch

Poetry: the art of finding the right word at the right time.—Michael R. Burch
Form: Epigram


Premium Member Sins

Eve listened to the evil feelings and thoughts in her heart.
Adam heard her hissing, as though, conscience tearing apart.
Arrogance-filled waywardness shined in the form of Apple.
Against their pride, the Almighty's love was seen to grapple.

Did the core conscience of Cain convince him to kill Abel?
Crimes and crudeness like one's flesh and blood became integral.
Suicide, homicide, and witchcraft continued like chains.
Under kings and emperors, humans were in endless pains.

Could Moses, Aaron, or Miriam save Yahweh's people?
Could saints and prophets of endless ages end every evil?
Who must win when humans and men fight for a bit of bread?
Why should humans fighting against humans find themselves dead?

Goodness failed. Evils won. Virtues lost wars against vices.
Existence shrank into contradictions and compromises.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Made For Mastery

God made man in His own image
to rule over His creation.
Not according to his own whim,
but following God’s dictation.

God’s dominion is based on love,
it’s how He rules heaven above.
Man was to mimic his maker,
not to become a lawbreaker.

Sin ruined the nature of man
and put him at odds with God’s plan.
Man succumbed to the evil force,
whose goal is to keep him off course.

Since man no longer rules himself,
he behaves like an evil elf.
To advance, some scheme, scam, and con
treating their fellowmen as pawns,
 
God made man to be a caretaker,
but man became an exploiter.
Instead of caring for nature,
mankind became its destroyer.

Instead of being God-centered,
mankind has become self-centered.
Man, who was made for mastery,
finds himself trapped in slavery.

Enslaved by greed’s grueling gore,
to vices sore, man’s made a whore.
The intense craving for pleasure
tortures his soul beyond measure.

The ruin that man’s ruling causes
can only in one way find pause.
If man yields to his Maker’s rule
and ceases behaving like a mule.
Form: Rhyme

Communities Under Attack

Maybe it won't be drugs that have the final say,
Or the gangs,
Terrorism will struggle to do it, 
It may not even be the battle of the sexes,
Or the loss of the cop on the beat,
The generation gap,
Or Corporate greed,
I doubt if even being time poor,
Or homelessness will do it,
Gambling will not do it,
Or any of the usual vices,
Corrupt politicians may give it a go,
But  it is none of these that will finish off our once proud communities,
As  money in the right hands can lessen the effect of all of these.

Something more sinister is happening daily in every community across the land,
The fate of our communities is now in the hand of individuals,
Who fight for no cause,
Have no axe to wield,
No desperate need,
Do not target any specific group,
Owe no allegiance to anyone else.

They keep pushing up insurance costs,
Can bring down banking institutions,
Don't seem to have a conscience,
As they knowingly drive some to suicide.
Making them difficult to reform.

These oh so innocent looking fraudsters,
Who are sucking the life blood out of our communities,
These parasites who siphon off money,
That is desperately needed to save lives, 
And rebuild shattered communities.
Scattering that money to the four corners of the world.

And if caught paying it back on the never-never plan,
All the while sitting at home in their trusted house, 
And laughing at us.

How can we fight this threat?
I can only see one ray of hope,
If one can, just occasionally stay in touch with family,
Visit the sick and lonely,
And limit the need for them to accept aid and false hope,
From those who seek to exploit,
Preventing them from developing, a taste for easy money,
And the thrill of the game,
The stench of which will hang over, 
Our communities for many lifetimes.
Form: Blitz

Humans In Demonic Image

As wrathful as arrogant, 
Ready to repent, 
A demon and still honest; 

Wrapped with red hot raging lust, 
Yet, one we can trust, 
A demon all so honest; 

So cruel as to kidnap, 
Fairness still on tap, 
A devil and still honest; 

Born of womb of a demon, 
Showing glow of Sun, 
For, a soul he was honest. 

Now, look at many a man—
Over half of ten,
How many be called honest?

Wearing though masks of a sage, 
In muck to engage, 
Humans in demon’s image! 

A day to scorch all evil,
With own self to deal,
How many can claim that will?

All other devils to burn
We shun our own turn,
Dishonest t’ be on this Fest,

Keen to shoot raging arrow
Alien ills to blow,
Not our own in heart’s hollow!
_____________________________ 
Thoughts on a Dussehra day, a festival celebrated for Rama’s victory over the demon king, Ravana, and return to his kingdom, Ayodhya, after a long exile.  The demon Ravana was a rare mix of virtues with vices, more virtues in fact than vices. What about us— humans?   
Set in Haiku-like format, but each stanza of 7/5/7 syllables
 ______________________________________ 
Reflections | 09.10.18 | Terza Rima


Voices In the Night

When the last golden sun streak is vanishing 
into clouds under the darken canopy of night.
The shivering dust settles behind the evening, 
of cloudy Satire coming with new dawn of light.

Patrolling the traces of low whispering voices,
following the Verve of strange words in the air,
Sentence disappear again into clandestine vices  
The choice of deeds nights is reluctant to share.

Bar and restaurant recommend to go the extra mile 
after ruefully losing their keys the best thing to do, 
is to make guests welcome with a smile, 
the assured voice speaking louder than we want to. 

Amorous thoughts locked behind closed doors, 
only the sound of voices breaking the silence, 
Heroes of the night, walking by on hotel floors, 
bound in code by the laws of their conscience.

Energy roll away into spaces of sleeping room   
corporate pleasure at the expenses of leisure, 
Upper decks not lower into drapes of gloom 
for lovers to lay their heads and count treasure.

The day is lit again rinsing away voices captured, 
amidst the wanderings curious moments flow, 
remains a mystery to know the voices that chatted
behind closed doors where hunger desires go.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Chance's Loves Lost

In the short youth that came, I longed for love—
love pure, untouched and virgin. But for some,
love never comes to pass. Comforted of 
God, I instead sought Him in my autumn.
Now agéd , I have ne’er a maiden met
or a fair lady courted for a night
of true love. (Alas! ‘tis best to forget
my lovelorn heart’s vain hopes for such delight.)
So, free from sin; naïve and innocent;
and unspoil’d by life's vices and its yeast,
I have cast aside lust’s prurient bent
and turned from my desires to be God's priest!
      To serve Him and deny my heart, I've lost
      the chance to love for such a great, high cost!
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member What Keeps Me Going

When didn't exist, in this globe, 
Ill-health, Hunger and poverty?
When didn't pandemic and rife, 
Make beings shattered and empty?

When weren't wars and battles, 
For power and pride, fought?
When didn't calamities  
Make humanity feel naught?

Tensions, tug-of-wars and turmoil, 
Like land and sea, perpetual,
Tribulations poke me, like thorns, 
As though it were their ritual,

Do dull eclipses, yet, 
Darken the earth, always?
Don't sun-rays, like brightest lanterns, 
Light my lamps in amazing ways?

When sun and moon and stars 
Eternally exist,
By nature's intervention, 
Though, cosmos its movements shift...

When I keep my inner eyes open,
I find poetry lie in all things;
Themes are scattered charmingly around, 
Like golden sun-lit bright autumn leaves;

I gather them, as my mind pleads, 
All my moans and groans my pen heeds;
I write; though I seldom succeed,
In fulfilling all human needs...

Optimism, like very polestar, 
Lightens my spiritual path;
Joy overtakes the inner gloom, 
Inner peace, like balm, heals my wrath;

I, like tying cattle in sheds, 
Bind my vices in their places,
Tortoise-like slow and steady steps, 
Wins for me all cut-throat races...

Faith, hope and trust are my horses, 
On which I jubilantly ride,
Love becomes my normal nature; 
In God, I peacefully abide...!


02 April 2022
What keeps me going Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
Form: Verse

Premium Member Life With Smokey

Life with Smokey was never dull.
He was fun and adventure,
It just never lulled.

So quiet and regal he seemed to be,
So dignified,
That you just couldn't see,

The rascal there in the heart of that cat.
He seemed so gentle,
Who'd have guessed that,

He was King of the Thieves with fresh sea food around.
A varlet, a knave,
His vices abound.

He climbed in the fridge for the fresh crab meat there,
And when one fell out,
It gave him a scare;

For it still was alive and it scurried away,
With Smokey behind it,
"Oh good, now we'll play."

"I'll swat it about until it just dies."
But the crab grabbed his paw,
And we ran to his cries.

Daddy grabbed up the crab and put it right back.
Then he gave him the fish,
He'd remembered to pack;

So Smokey could have his treat as before,
Not caught this time,
But bought at the store.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Morning’s Muse

It’s 5am here and 2am there
I’m up with the blue birds
Pulling the word worms from my mind
Wiggling out seeking the soil 
We all want to be planted in
We all desire to be made whole

Golden sun slowly rises on horizon
And I find it inviting
If I could swallow it
Would I be enlightened 
Would I no longer seek human vices
Musings of a early morning mom

Peeling back thoughts like
Covers sheets on a queen’s bed
Always hoping to be better than I am
Always growing despite feeling damned
Why fight against emotions they are like a sail
Can take you only so far if you are brave enough to care

A bird bathes my ears in his yellow song
Welcoming and charming tweets so strong
This bird’s heart is sure of his plight
Despite dark hearts his song is of light

So nature has lessons I need to learn
Like fire is hot touch it not or burn
Trust in God for His ways are not our own
Like the little bird does as he creates nurtures home

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