Long Well read Poems
Long Well read Poems. Below are the most popular long Well read by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Well read poems by poem length and keyword.
When it is time to come out of lockdown.
Some will be looking for a showdown,
Others will only want the lowdown.
Some will not fit though their doors,
Others will need something to hold up their draws.
Some will come out widows,
Others will have only just sneaked back through windows.
Some will be looking for a joint,
Others will no longer see the point.
Some will be in search of tasty desserts,
Others will get their just desserts.
Some will be mad,
Others will be glad.
Some will have learned to walk,
Others will not want to talk.
Some will feel rich,
Others will think life is a ?
Some will look you up,
Others will remain stuck up.
Some will be kind,
Others out of their mind.
Some will be well read,
Others will be out of bread.
Some will have papered over the cracks,
Others will have not taken off their Mack's.
Some will be allergic to sunlight,
Others will have seen the light.
Some will have beaten the blues,
Others will have run out of clues.
Some will suffer from bed sores,
Others will be heading for distant shores.
Some will look to blame,
Others will have had enough of that game.
Some will come out cooks,
Others will only have their good looks.
Some will be putting out welcome mats,
Others will be still holding bats.
Some will bemoan the cost,
Others happy to see a frost.
Some will have learned to tie knots,
Others will come out in cots.
Some will play fair,
Others will have no hair.
Some will have learned their lesson,
Others will be heading to prison.
Some will get mail,
Others will be in need of bail.
Those coming out of lockdown will have quite a thirst,
If we don't see their feet first.
Those coming out of lockdown alive,
Without exception, will never forget those who supplied honey
to those trapped inside a hive.
-
Hello, Sistar Sapio
Can I have a moment of your time?
I just want to express what's on my mind
I would like to know,
Can you go?
Better yet, will you come with me?
To a place where our minds can be free
My dearest, let's just zoom away
Far from here to a place of sagacious interplay
I would love for us to heave way up yonder
To a celestial space where few go and wander
A place where we can talk about 6 protons, 6 neutrons, and 6 electrons
True biology and kemistry, exploring the nature of carbon
You shine like a diamond
Beautifully glistening in my mind
An effervescent erudite
Just bubbling with light
I love the way your synapses and dendrites spark
A beaming light in a world so dark
Well-read, well-traveled and so versed in history
You turn on my love light when you speak about our story
Yes! Your elocution is second to none
Taming tongue twisters like a tornado that has spun
Sapiosexual I'm feeling...
your beautiful mind got me reeling
Your hippocampus is like a bottomless pit...
where loads and loads of information sit
Sistar Sapio, you're such an alluring cutie...
the more I see, the more I want to study
My mother was brought up in an orphanage because her father
a confectioner became an alcoholic and lost his job, ended
up looking for work when ships came in and needed dockers
to unload the cargo.
My mother, although working class, was well-read but also
a bit eccentric, she had come to the erroneous conclusion
that only communism (equality in her mind) could bring peace.
It was in one of the papers she read I learned about
Roosevelt’s knowledge of the Japanese Pearl Harbor attack.
I was about twelve years old when she dragged me to
a meeting where two Russian “workers” would attend.
They painted a wonderful picture of life in Russia and
showed still films of happy workers at tractor plant extolling
the wonder of the communist regime.
They also showed us the homes of the workers and later
how happy the land workers were breaking out into dance
in their national dress.
I was very young at the time but was not sold on this display
of happiness, mother said I had no imagination.
My mother continued to believe in communism until
the Soviet Union invaded Hungary in 1956.
Bard of Soups Hearts
Brings joy to our days in so many ways
All types of poetry penned that amaze
Reading is pleasure one has to agree
Distinctly good are tales from history.
One who is well read, knowing a lot too
Fables that teach some what they never knew.
Side splitting poems, laughing till we cry
One’s never bored when this poet stops by
Uplifting, inspiring, motivating
Pleasing, delighting and captivating
Some sensual that sets hearts pulsating.
Here’s to the bard, may your poems live on
Every one an epic, second to none
Anyone with heart would love every write
Raising heartbeats like music of the night
There’s one further thing I should mention
Sums you up so surely - ‘tis perfection.
8th February 2021
Last two lines are the Bard’s own, from two separate poems.
“Written in the Time of Something”
“Insignificant you are, don’t you know, this is the time of Nothing.” She said.
“I am?” I replied.
“In the time of Something, you will read, what is the Becoming. Believe.” She said
“What then?” I questioned the solemn silence.
“Perdition.” She responded."For a little while, in Insignificance." She Said.
“It's in the blood, don't you know? It is written by slow minds, insignificantly, the stories are read by their fast declines”. Someone said.
“Never by I.” I said.
“I am quick, I am clever, I am hidden in the Never.” She said.
"True. The story that matters, is unseen." He said.
“The minds behind the eyes reading - are disjointed, ambiguous, exploring, out of time”, he said.
“But will they find what they are asking in their writing, their questions in their minds, finally answered?” she said
“Maybe in the time of Something.” He said
"Maybe." She said.
Written and very well read.
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
"Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby"/ Cigarettes After Sex
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXIIAvd3w
"Affection"/Cigarettes After Sex
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QI8VrXkffcg
"Affection"/ Cigarettes After Sex/ LRYICS:
https://www.cigarettesaftersex.com/lyrics-affection
Vision, a window divine, open wide to aspirations of heart,
A lens paramount, for perusing aesthetics of beauty and art;
A sight beaming imagination, on ambitions of curious soul,
A focus coherent, shaping impulses, passions studious cajole.
A medium of communication, an engaging lure of romance,
An infatuated response, a jubilant hint of enamored glance,
Blossoming in language of love, without utterance of word,
Extolling meaning amorous, that desires romantic spurred.
Perceptive of worldview, on mission to observe and learn,
A journey into the unknown, yearning curiously to discern,
Vision quests for knowledge, aiming to be literate, well read,
Vision peers into future, navigating life’s road maps ahead.
It thrills watching a baby smile, elates in celebration of life,
Saddens when mind summons anguish of grief and strife;
Dejecting violent places, thoughts kindred deeply deplore,
Preferring banks of avid shores, dreams endearing implore.
Vision captures images of life, ruminating in joys and sighs,
Rejoicing in blissful memories, or tearing-up its forlorn eyes;
Reveling in exuberant prairies, vying for flowering springs,
Or shuddering amid barren trees, bearing angst winter brings.
The media paints the heart bright red
but in reality, that's not always true
life comes along to knock us down
even falling in love isn't just I do
Take a look inside that heart
look deep way right down
your hands can't reach that depth
take your emotions off that frown
You have a heart far from physical
its effects you only can feel
so deceiving they are at times
even you would love to steal
Read read and read it again
reach out your hands only to fail
no operation can reveal it bare
but its effects leave you pale
Is your heart coloured pure red?
or is it deceiving your own very self
take a closer look into your heart
must be appealing or be left on the shelf
( A look at the Red heart symbol that the media paints so much of love and trying to look outside the box of that love symbol which may not be all it's painted to be.)
When men were kings with steeds
women were handmaids to their needs.
repositories for their seed to grow
...I didn't know.
When men worked to make fields right,
women worked both day and night,
with bleeding hands, she'd try to sew
...I didn't know.
Men talked politics to only men
women weren't allowed back then.
If she had a brain, it mustn't show,
...I didn't know.
A woman couldn't own things herself;
like chattel, she sat on the shelf.
Her children were only his to show,
...I didn't know.
This is one thing to take note:
at one time, a woman could not vote;
until Suffragists began their show,
...I didn't know.
She worked and the check went to the man.
He'd give her cash within his own plan.
Altho tired, she helped her children grow,
...I didn't know.
Now women sit as corporate heads,
doctors, lawyers, all well-read.
We're living in the afterglow,
on the shoulders of all those women
...we didn't know.
A soul is divine it is said,
by spiritualists, well read,
but what soul is, most have not seen,
who are by scriptures blindly led.
Detached hermits, whose needs are lean,
in staid stillness have felt soul’s sheen,
which we too can know, if we choose,
erst fears and desires, from heart wean.
With agape love as our heart’s muse,
following truth without excuse,
we then see soul, as light of God,
whence mind games no longer amuse.
Made in God’s image, soul’s a pod,
blooming when we give love our nod,
shining within, as living light;
revelation that leaves us awed.
Bliss drenched soul pulsates with delight,
humming gently by day and night,
as God’s essence, alive, aglow,
known when awakens inner sight.
Thus truth of soul, if we would know,
we must make first, our thought flow slow,
whereupon we see soul’s divine;
whence God guides us and we follow.
All
humans
were made by
God. All have the
same roots, same body
internally.
Need for love
found in
all
All
those who
believe that
some humans are
superior to
others forget
God resides
within
all
All
those who
criticize
forget that they
are criticizing
the creator,
Almighty,
who made
All
All
humans
act out of
ignorance. They
forget all are beads
of same string We
should respect
all, help
all
All
those who
are well-read,
have knowledge of
scriptures use all free
time in finding
soul hidden
within
all
02.07.2021
Submitted to Critical Race Theory, Anthony Biaanco
Syllable count checked at PS syllables counter
Contest winner 9th position
References from Bhagvad Gita :
BG 7.7: There is nothing higher than myself, O Arjun. Everything rests in me, as beads strung on a thread.
BG 15.7: The embodied souls in this material world are My eternal fragmental parts. But bound by material nature, they are struggling with the six senses including the mind.
BG 5.18: The truly learned, with the eyes of divine knowledge, see with equal vision a Brahmin, a cow, an elephant, a dog, and a dog-eater
References from Bible :
Corinthians 8:6
But to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we by him.
Romans 12:5
So we, numerous as we are, are one body in Christ (the Messiah) and individually we are parts one of another [mutually dependent on one another