Long Warning Poems
Long Warning Poems. Below are the most popular long Warning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warning poems by poem length and keyword.
Young ladies don’t cast your pearls before swine,
For their motives have many warning signs,
Cherish your beauty in everyway,
My darling sisters think twice before your so quick to lay,
Don’t become another statistic,
Remember your body is purely artistic,
Don’t sell your soul to a ravenous fool,
This is not just a promise, it is a lifelong tool,
Young princess, that’s who you really are,
Spare yourselves the unnecessary scars,
For out of the heart comes lies and deceit,
While you’re looking for love,
They are looking for fresh flesh to eat,
My angels, guard your treasure above all,
For at any moment you may slip up and fall,
Charm is deceptive and kisses from an enemy come with a price,
Don’t allow a void inside to become a blinded vice,
My darlings, saver your purity and youth,
Someday the right one will come to you with respect and truth,
Just be patient, and love yourself first,
Look above if you question your worth,
For a rose so beautiful and rare,
Has no idea what heaven has prepared.
By: Sabina Nicole
On a clear crisp morning
All was quiet and still
Suddenly without warning
A scream that will make you ill
The house lit up like Blackpool
And all around was concerned
People running like crazy fools
To where screams were heard
It was the master of the house
As dead as a winters leaf
Everyone started to crowd
All was in disbelief
A knife pushed into his back
But who wanted him deceased?
What was the motive of the attack?
With whom did he disagree?
Was it his unfaithful wife?
Or the butler that she loved?
The maid had access to knives
And his son was wearing gloves
A very stern person was he
Constantly ranting and growl
Could have been anybody
Who knows that angry frown
One window was broke inside
So someone without a key
The gardner was out of sight
So could it be he?
"Call the police" was a cry aloud
"Let them work it out instead"
Who is it? they have to be found
Before we find another dead
A hollow bang echoed aloud
The grim looking butler answered
"The police are here" was the shout
"Hello hello hello what have I heard?"
"He's dead" the wife cried
Taking out his magnifying glass
He drew his chalk line
Reassuring them we'll solve this fast
He examined all occupants
While scratching his head
The wife and main servant
Were together in bed
The gardener was on holiday
Traveling over the moor
The maid was getting changed
With the son peeping through the door
Taking a closer look he realised
It was his own hunting knife
His boots weren't properly tied
He fell and took his own life
A case of accidental suicide
What about the broken window?
I hear you simply ask
It happened during the fall
His hand was full of glass
With that he packed his tools
"My job here is complete"
Mistaking them all as fools
Because it's hard to believe
As ths police arrived very quick
Also He was alone
His methods were too slick
Covering tracks of his own
I'll let you decide if you think
he's the guilty one in the home
New days pass me by,
What shall I do when happiness reaches to me
When I have forgotten all the pain I've endured
When the past seems so shallow and uninteresting
Shall I smile to it or frown upon it
Perhaps a quiet life where distance makes me whole
Perhaps a new beginning to make up for a new ending
It's too late now, the flowers bloomed too early
The storm came and took away all the colors
It's time to accept pain with joy and gratitude
Because when the sun shines again
It shall be a warning for the keepers
Those whose flowers will bloom
Those whose eternal beauty shall shine
Those whose future is still bright
The archers’ line was straddled,
By many a shapely calf.
The Marshall called the nocking,
And winked at the pretty lass.
The Maiden drew the bowstring back,
To her ruddy cheek,
As she fired her fledgling flights;
They heard the fair Maid "Eek!"
Chorus
"Sing Hey Ho, best beware!
Hey Ho have a care,
If ye've any pretty parts,
Ye'll keep them out of there!"
The bowman smiled and nodded,
As the Maiden struck a pose.
"Try again M'Darlin' Dear,
"But watch out for y'er nose!"
The Maiden rubbed her forearm,
And looked back with a glare.
Nocked another arrow shaft,
And hit the bull's-eye square.
Gentles all they tipped their hats.
The Marshall cleared the field.
The Maiden went to fetch her flights.
The men trod close at heel.
Returning with a manly stride,
Yet again, she took her stance.
The bowmen's eyes all glimmered,
With mischief far in advance.
Chorus
Pulling back her bow string,
To her crimson cheek so close,
She let another arrow fly free.
The string hit her in the nose!
Tears welled in the Maiden's eyes.
All the gentlemen rushed the Dear.
Wiping the pretty lassies face,
Of every single tear.
They brushed the few stray auburn locks
From before her green-brown eyes
Handed her the fine longbow,
And heard her sorrowful sighs,
"Do try again M'Dear Mistress,
But for your form we fear,
So, be very, very, careful Maid!
Keep those nipples out of there!"
Chorus
'Twas 'pon the final flurry,
As she drew string back to cheek;
"Thwack" went the taunting bowstring,
And again the Maiden "Eekked!"
Her cheeks they blanched a deathly white,
'Pon her brow there came a frown;
Still, when the Marshall called count;
She gamely shot the round.
"Sing Hey Ho, don't be scared,
Hey Ho just take a care,
'Tis simply a friendly warning
Not to put ye're pretty parts there!"
When I do dream, I find a well,
Where all the dreams would mix and swell,
A treasure store of hope I find,
Possibilities undefined.
A dream is a thing, but yet, ‘tis not,
At best, it’s nothing more than a thought.
Except for when the dreams come true,
And that is up to me, to you.
We write our dreams within our hopes,
We cling to them like they are ropes.
Our dreams inspire life again,
But crush us, bringing woe and pain.
A dream can be that which you hinge on,
But carefully, else life be gone,
So, brother, sister, heed this well,
This warning is mine, for you to tell.
Form:
A raven quill wakes beneath the chapel roof,
scratching on vellum by a blue, sleepless flame;
its ink is ash from vanquished wings
that Heaven will no longer claim.
She once had guarded Heaven’s verge,
with pale obedience and a solemn song,
until the lower darkness breathed her name
and beckoned her to join the silent throng.
A jasmine veiled with jinxed jewels,
of blackest pearls and midnight dew,
breathed perfume through the chapel dark
to wind itself around her view.
For now she heard that sound again,
its ancient music stirred desire;
now dancing with my sweet demons,
she woke the Fangs of Fire.
She heard the first white feather singe,
a warning in the flame;
yet still she followed that dark sound
and let it speak her name.
She’ll have to Learn to live for lovesick lies,
for now the truth will leave a colder scar;
her broken wings must fade to ash
to keep alight her dreaming star.
...and I wane, an angel without wings,
beneath the heavy, blackened dome;
no hollow prayer can stitch the air behind
or carry these burnt ashes home.
If only I could forgive ...
the choice I made to cross the flame,
where demons taught me hunger first—
and now I must do the same.
The quill drinks down the final ash
from wings the skies cannot recall.
For grief is a ghostwriter
whose quill records their tragic fall.
The shape of my heart was square
All corners saying beware
I get broken easily
Don't give in or you will see
Me crumble, not mending quick
There are more deceits and tricks
By con men who do not want
True love, they carelessly flaunt
Lies to set an evil trap
They spring upon you and snap
Your world into a big mess
So watch out for their finesse
Your innocence will soon be lured
They'll make you feel so assured
And safe, emotions turning fragile
Out of control, you can not handle
Feelings stirring deep inside
Your mind is now getting fried
With the hotness of his fire
Sucking you in with desire
Sharp claws of evil digging in
Another lost and lonely victim
Trapped inside a torture chamber
Please listen about the danger
I have strongly worded here
Heed them with the greatest care
This is a non-smoking area
Lizards keep out
Smoking is bad for your health
Long tongues and swerving bodies are not welcome
Cold blooded creatures beware
Strike matches elsewhere, (California has sanctuary zones)
Surgeon generals are lined up against you
To decapitate your kind, decaffeinate your sodas
Next on the list are turtles and frogs
Fat reptiles are not permitted in NY City
Smokers will be executed then put on trial
Liberals are coming after you
They love endangered species
Ash trays are ornamental
Kept in museums next to dinosaurs
It was not asteroids that killed the ancient lizards
Butt cigarettes without filters
I noticed just yesterday
while glowering about something else
now already
once again
forgotten...
I seem to have lost my good-sensed humor
along my stumbling
isolating internal say
Toward this red STOP! sign
searching for a different way
To find a new Earth center
for healing active hope,
To sing new scales of joyful
sad sharp focus
Performed more locally
and possibly reformed less reflectively
mesmerized by fame's monopolistic grope.
This new reselective time
Less silently reserved
Less anxiously depressed
Less repressively suppressed.
Each morning's dawn warning
to worship at new altars
Renewing robust octaves of communion
encompassing organic green nutrition
To redesign all creatures here below
more positive above
good-humored love
with timeless passions
hilariously sensed together
yet tragically shoved
apart.
If I were not so sweet sixteen
prepared to restart home's immigration scene
again for my first time,
what would I rechoose to do
becoming compassion's singing rally
with rainbow hearted allies?
If I were thirty-three,
my age of messianic crossfire
for all to red angry
horrifying see,
what would I choose to resurrect again?
And why would this revoiced
rechoiced healthier community
support potentiating integrity
with more robust good humor
this well-timed passed over
and back around
on sacred wellbeing
more interfaith
as multiculturally safe
and healthy ground?
If I were twice
my god's reflective age
revived,
what would we joyously choose
to re-member
as half-life good golden sense
for revolving salvation's climate humor?
For this tragic comedy
of tumorous migration
anxiously anticipating
integrity's full ZeroScores
restoring just right species
may not be mine
next time back around
multiculturing herstory
All together one predation
praying for exterior relations
more integral summations
than humorless,
silent rumorless
quiet aging absence
of eternal sad-paced
barely surviving mercy
At least sufficient for noticing,
just yesteryear
while glowering about something else
now already strange sadly *****
once again forgotten.
One day whilst going out to play
I felt a plop upon my head
Oh what was that, I cried out loud
Then spied the largest blackest cloud
Maybe a warning of more to come
As he flung a raindrop just for fun
Or was he laughing; having a joke
Intending to give me a jolly good soak
Imagine my joy when combing my hair
For this tiny wee raindrop was still hiding there
Like a beautiful sphere; a boutonniere
Secreted and safe she was inside her lair
Translucent and fragile, cupped inside my palm
I held her gently, so not to cause harm
But sadly the raindrop she rolled on my floor
And vanished completely; I saw her no more
Cherishing memories of a single raindrop
Still yearning to feel that magical plop
As rain clouds appear and gather above
I look to the sky sending kisses and love
Written 14th November 2018
Competition entry for The Raindrop
Sponsor Craig Cornish
Standard Contest 160
Brian Strand
1st place