Long Whatever Poems
Long Whatever Poems. Below are the most popular long Whatever by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whatever poems by poem length and keyword.
The time between the seasons
Takes a joyful leap of hope at brighter tones
An opening curtain for every transition
With excitement for every new vision
It erases lethargy and boredom
While it rolls at God’s natures and wisdom
Dressing up my life in different colors
As I enter each and every opening door
Dressed up in white, yellow, green or blue
I joyfully walk forward on paths whatever its hue
With great preparations, I always make a go
To embrace each life’s season as I pass through
The time between the seasons
Takes a joyful leap of hope in brighter tones
An opening curtain for every transition
With excitement for every new vision
For a time between my life's seasons needs devising
To face lovingly many big surprises it brings
Time between seasons make me always look forward
Great gifts and challenges in life from our Almighty God
The time between the seasons
Takes a joyful leap of hope in brighter tones
An opening curtain for every transition
With excitement for every new vision
July 24,2022 10.28am
So: thinker, “personality” and actor
are looking for a drink.
If two of them are trailers, one’s a tractor.
“Nice counter-top. Real zinc?”
“Don’t ask them stuff. They memorise words
of better men, to spout ’em!”
“And his type feels the need to gather herds
of sycophants about ’em.”
“There’s zinc in every human enzyme. Fact.”
“An enzyme? Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
“A catalyst which helps your gut react
a thousand times a day.”
Creators are the only ones who matter,
just them and only them.
Who grows, can know: who knows can grow (and scatter):
the human apothegm.
“The path from easy living? Slow decline
to reach death valley days.”
“Misfortunes? They’re all relative, and mine
are slight. I’m not from Grays!”
Who hasn’t done his share of Boogie Nights?
All wassail hours are zeros.
Two-thirds of humankind are parasites:
where should we look for heroes?
We have a thing now, called celebrity
that’s not the same as fame:
whatever ape forsakes the tree
can make himself a name.
The world, for entertainment, craves a schism
(Max Baer against Joe Louis):
but who foresaw the Queen of Capitalism
would be a Russian Jewess?
Tried writing stuff of a serious nature
Just knew it wasn't for me
Dabbled a bit but I just couldn't hack it
A humorist is all I'll be
It's not exclusive, still write about love
Some about conflict and war
But I'd rather write about a sorry dude
Slipped on a banana peel and swore
Don't call me Burns or Shelley or Keats
Prefer ones that make me cackle
Guess you could call me low brow poet
Causing one's tail to waggle
Was born with a silver spoon in my mouth
Fortunate when so many struggle
Don't call me down, it wasn't a choice
Much like the law of the jungle
The luck of the draw, whatever you call it
Really didn't have much of a say
I was truly a product of World War II years
Still happy to this very day
The free-flowing stream of life has dead-ended into backwater brine.
A mundane gray and burrs of cynicism, replacing wonder and smiles.
Suddenly, things seem heavily scripted and sprinkled with saccharine.
A feeling of slow suffocation and being boxed in.
When they smile, they smile with greasy plastic lips.
Whatever happened to sharing the gentler side of hearts
,, giving without glory and the rosy art of forgiveness.
We've been placed on the side of a rain-soaked cliff.
The trumpets and horses are drawing in, shaking the red earth.
A,I. sirens are humming from an Orwellian flavor of blackness.
They used to call survivalists and preppers madmen,
I think they're closer to seers and visionaries instead.
As we speak, the elite weave vast underground cities.
For decades, they've drained lakes and stripped rain forests to feed them.
I'm guilty of looking at life with rose colored eyes
Far behind in practicality and preparedness.
I've read some books on solar power and non-perishables.
Homemade water purifiers and air scrubbers confuse me to no end.
I can hang drywall and change oil and drive a nail.
But for the most part, it's all beyond me.
Grandma once taught me some things about canning and weaving
I didn't take her seriously; I was too caught up in the free flow of living.
She was a seer of sorts and smiled often but never with plastic lips.
I'm glad she's not around to see the final scene of this plastic script.
I do have a cluster of years behind me.
There's an odd comfort in knowing I've been gifted the opportunity to sip
from the free-flowing stream of life...just before the plastic serpent slithered in.
Sh! They are building the teacup tower tonight.
I shivered with excitement, understanding what this might mean.
Like Jack who climbed the beanstalk, I intended to travel to Saturn
Past the giants, the clouds, the dark holes.
I was too thrilled to do anything but watch.
My entire village was eager to give a hand.
I wanted to do whatever I could.
They kept shouting orders, which I followed gladly.
Hoping I would get my turn to travel to the stars.
Working together as one, we built into the night.
Unfortunately, farmer's wife unstacked them again.
She does this every morning, but we elves are not quitters.
Our expectations rarely match
Reality, it seems,
For it’s not possible to snatch
The dazzle of our dreams.
The same applies to dreaded fears
Which cloud a coming date.
The truth, when it at last appears,
Proves we can’t speculate
About what hasn’t yet occurred;
Such attitudes waste time.
Our future’s either dark or blurred
And changes on a dime.
So whether outcomes fall quite short
Or drastically exceed
Whatever we’d envisioned
What is always guaranteed
Is that no one ever knows for sure,
Including every sage,
If our hopes or fears are premature,
Until we turn the page.
You do whatever necessary to change us
To shape us to become the person You want us to be
You can put us through tests
Through trials, adversities, unwanted disappointments
Through thoughts, feelings, senses
Everything is at your arsenals
To accomplish what are needed for the good of us
Sometimes we understand it
And sometimes we question Your take
We wonder, puzzle, challenge
Everything that is beyond our understanding
But are we supposed to understand God?
Yours are incomprehensible, impossible, incredible
Unbelievable, unarguable, unexplainable
What You want will be done
What You will will take place
There is no around about it
It will come
You are amazing
And You do wondrous things
We can’t understand it
But it will take shape like a grandiose puzzle
With things fall into their own places
We can’t help it
But marvel at Your undertaking
Your hands upon all of us
Your will for mankind
It’s all in You
Intricate, delicate, complicate
You are in charge of all
There is nothing we do
That You are not involved in
God we give it to You
You are so Holy God
So worthy, so incredibly wonderful
That we can’t seem to find a word
To describe You
You are
EVERYTHING
And we love You
Thank you Lord
Even though we don’t understand it
We will trust in You
In a world increasingly reduced
To postures of virtue signaling
It’s easy to side with the vocal majority
Crying real tears, gnashing whitened teeth.
But despite the emotional appeal
Of whatever we’re confirmationally biased towards,
Real issues exist in real time
Needing to be judged on real pros and cons.
History after all doesn’t exactly repeat itself
As much as spiral around a central core
Of habitual patterns
And stubbornly persistent delusions.
The next time you feel
The tug of collective empathy pull
Don’t just look at the banner
Look at the hand that holds it too.
(9/4/25)
Their raising that black flag as everyone looks in horror
As the Iraqi defenses sag they burst on through the door
And the ghastly sights we see and how shocked we are
Saying this shouldn't be, no one should ever go that far
Sometimes 25 are killed in a day as America cringes
And the words people say for their own heart it singes
Then they vote pro-choice and they don't even realize
The silencing of any voice is the same where satan lies
But America kills far more as to God they also overruled
If it's killing the unborn you're for, you have been fooled
The Creator has no distinction each Created in His Name
However in what you have done carries a lot more shame
Ironic in the land of the free 3,000 unborn a day are slain
Over there what you see is the same as what you engrain
But we dispose of our dead, a slurry of 3,000 unborn a day
So whatever you have said, of yourself you must also say
My grandson is jumping up and down excited telling me about the new game he got, word of worship, and his mother lets him play it one hour a week and he hates to use up all his time in one day because then he has to wait six days to play again and so he’s thinking of playing 30 minutes on Wednesdays and 30 minutes on Saturdays so he won’t to wait so long, and I’m thinking, kudos to my daughter for getting him so excited about praise music or whatever this new game is, and he’s talking about earning experience points, and bells are going off in my head because worship is about knowing who your heavenly father really is and not some contrived emotional low-to-high, and I ask him about the name of the game again, and again he tells me about word of worship, and finally I ask, so how to do play this game and he starts talking about canons, or is that cannons?
not word of worship
addanel, ohtoay, es
but world of warships