Long Work in progress Poems

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


A Whine and Cheeez Memory

As I was eating some cheese the other day,
 it reminded me of you, and the things you used to say.

  After all, you had all the bragging rights...
 because it was you who had won all the fights.

Now, when I sit here with my chins all sagging,
 I can only remember those hours of your nagging.

  I tried to get a word in here and there...
 but then all I got was that inevitable stare.

Remember the time you said how I was so whiny,
 You thought my diaper must be too tiny.

   We left each other with all that passion...
 In those days we knew it was all the fashion.

So now as I am eating this last piece of cheese I think...Cheeez,
 I'm glad you're not here to make me say please.

   No, I no longer have to hear you Whine,
 As I pour myself another glass of wine.






  Better still is now when I have some whine...
 It's the one made from grapes and fresh off the vine.

Written: 7/31/16  (Really a work in progress)
© Dan Cwiak  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet


Delhi

19 million people, waking up in the morning,
going about their lives, from one corner to 
another, jumping on one route and reaching
another. Delhi, you beautiful beautiful city, 
I hear you carry, within, a soul so old that 
you age with time. Oh Delhi, you beautiful
mistake. 

19 million people, 573 sq. mi long city, 
so many lives, so many dreams. Delhi, you
infuriating mess. Ask anyone they'll have a
story to tell, of a time not known to you, a 
time not understood by me but a thousand 
people willing to stop and listen along with 
their daily cup of tea. 

Everyone in here experiences this city in a
way that quite differently do align, and they 
are definitely unconnected to mine. Mine 
starts with a gate, number 7 it seems,
a chamber block with III written on it and a
floor to see what is unseen. Oh Delhi,
you are so full of mysteries. 

On the 7th floor fire exit, you can see the 
glory of this city in one place. If you look at
the expanse, I swear you can fly. From the 
magnificence that is the Raisina Hill, running 
along the Parliament and the tricolored 
beauty of India gate. Hold on, wait for a 
moment. Absorb the lights, the Grandeur
and move one. 

The chilly breeze, often takes you with it to 
the never ending work in progress that is 
Pragati Maidan which literally translates 
to “progress grounds” and to the ruins of 
the Old fort, which once was the residence 
of the huge empire, resonates the losses 
and the gains.

The 7th floor fire exit captures the beauty 
that is Delhi, but it also takes you on a 
journey to the gems lost in time. If you look
around, you'll see the Jawaharlal Nehru 
Stadium, sitting on the high chair, looking 
down at the city. If you go a little further, 
you'll find the Lotus temple.

Right there, just there, stop and think. Look
beyond the temple and you'll find yourself.
You'll see where you've reached and the
place where you started from. Delhi, you are 
the reason for my suffering and the reason 
for my contentment.

There are 19 million people in this city and
the 7th floor, Chamber block III is my place
of solace.

50 Words For Poe: Inviolate

"50 Words for Poe: Inviolate"




Inviolate
I walk bare feet
towards you
unknown 
I contend to 
know you
but I do not
where is the mirror
to hold up to a face
on the other side of me
you are merely 
speaking to a screen
You are scrying 
ghost bees 
in the dark
honeycomb 
sticky, 
tasted like braille
eyes open
but closed
felt 
but lost 
in frail contention 
you fail to find me
elusive true
walking talking 
to a phantom
soft self-serve
a 2 minute 
instant 
hot
continental
cup-o-soup

On the other side
I cannot hear you
you remain unseen
Phantom walking 
towards me
walk slow
take your time
I’m still lost in your fog
while you throw your
cursive curves,
I am writing your story
blindfolded
wrapped tightly in 
violin strings of
empathy

Absolute.
Intuitive.

Frugal and Blue.

No point in delivering
without the glory
who’s to know 
when finished by...
could
be 
by June,
then again
absent 
by -

July.

So August.
So True.
This is how a
Work-in-Progress goes

"Inviolate (1) - 50 Words for Poe"

just for you

(LadyLabyrinth/2019)



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZSHr5E7fZY
Kate Bush - "Pi"




In Draft, “50 Words for Poe - Inviolate (1)”, LadyLabyrinth 2019



August/
noun.
8th month in the calendar year; 
adjective
respected and impressive

Our Children: Works In Progress

products of the Lord God that's what are children are
works in progress whom we pray will in life go very far

looking at these young men who wear their pants hanging down 
with their rear ends exposed
I often wonder what was going through their minds 
when they purchased those clothes
we live in a world where you only get one chance to make a first impression
so what do they assume people think about them in the way they are dressing
there's nothing wrong with doing your own thing but the youth need to be aware
that we are all products of the Lord God for it was He who put us here

God is our Creator for it was He who gave us the breath of life
God is our Father, our Holy Spirit and our Savior Jesus the Christ
to be a product of the church is to be a child of God
to be a work in progress striving for a righteousness of heart
to raise your children in the ways of Christ so that they'll never stray
is the best way to make sure that they'll be successful in every way
I'm not talking about just titles, riches nor college degrees
I'm talking about raising children to be productive in every capacity
for them to polite, successful, respectful, courteous and kind
for our children to be a reflection of what God has in mind

most children raised in the church tend to have less struggle, stress and strife
they tend to become well-adjusted adults who have a firm grip on life
they know how to speak in public they are more confident and sure
the know that they are loved and always being encouraged
for the word of God is what they stand for
they tend to dress and present themselves in a manner most impressing
for as children of Christ they are assured of the Lord God's blessing
they're less anxious, less addictive, less likely to be violent or kill
they know that they can unburden themselves by trusting in the Lord God's will

our children works in progress products of the Sovereign God
raise them up in the ways of Christ from which they will never depart
Form: Didactic

Pause Between Thinking and Speaking

A slight pause is taken between a thought
and the words that I speak from my heart
for words often rendered in too much haste
are frowned upon with wary looks of distaste

I have to admit that it's a voluntary action
Once my words are out, there's no retraction
Much too easily thoughts flow from my mouth
Things go downhill from there, heading south

Sometimes I don't stop myself right away
then find I'm caught in the middle of a fray
Being brutally honest doesn't always work
when it causes people to think I'm a jerk.

Enlightenment on the issue, I should seek
before I extemporize an ineffectual critique
Tempering my tongue is a work in progress
It still gets me into trouble, I will confess.

I really shouldn't say what comes to my mind
without considering someone may be maligned.
I need to consider how others will be affected,
and that their feelings should be respected.

Poorly worded phrases can destroy one's esteem
and tear apart someone's long awaited dream
Never would I intentionally say something unkind
so, to pause before I speak, I have become resigned.

My thoughts are whispers, merely a breath away
from what I should or perhaps should never say
before my tongue takes wing like a bird in flight
releasing words that could cause grief and smite.

Reflecting before I speak my thoughts out loud
is what I must do. To this I've solemnly avowed.
I will try not to make another emotional outburst
of what I can't take back. I will think about it first.



November 23, 2022
Just before release Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Book Club I -Screwtape Letters

researching, watch the trailer, work in progress...

Screwtape Letters
31 Letters

Just notes
Consider this...
If you cannot yield to text and scripture
He cannot bare score
C L takes us where?
Two years. studies of Greek and Latin classics


What we cannot see in the spiritual world

Screwtape, Devil, The Father Below
in an ice cubicle 
mans is all around him
To love or Not to love God
This is the choice He's given man
and it works for The Devil as well


His nephew Wormwood
Lower Archy must be taught!

The Patient, agnostic
does convert to Christianity
He can't see that spiritual side
not from the museum in its library
he is sensible
Togas and sandals? Ah!
Largely pictorial, anticlimax
Let-downs

Letter #3
Goal: Patient and mother 
How to poison the relationship
Poison the mind of the patient's mother
Self-examination, can't you here yourself?
Perceptive, weakness's
malice for each other
the key here is to cause
 both to be annoyed 
inflame, focus on the soul (defects)
and not the pain itself




The devil is a liar, don’t believe Screwtape


Letter#17
 'One human Wormwood guide'
Triful naive arguments
A dozen incompatible 
Jargon not argument
Material things Stark or courageous
Argument lets God argue as well
Twisted thoughts occur
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member -Life Lessons

Reflecting on my life
A lifetime of lessons learnt along the way
Some harder than others
Still learning to this day

I have learnt the importance of kindness
The power it truly holds
Just a small act of kindness
Positive changes will enfold

I have learnt the importance of loved ones
The true meaning of loving unconditionally
To cherish the ones who surround me
Enjoying time together making special memories

I have learnt the importance of using my voice
To share my positive thoughts
Never keeping the positives silent
Life is here then gone and “Yes …..way too short”

I have learnt the importance of not  “stressing the small stuff”
As its significance in the big picture is nil
Only concerning myself with matters that warrant worry
As worry and stress can make you ill…..or worse kill !

I have learnt the importance of humility
Honesty, integrity, respect, worth
Applying them as best l can
While l walk this precious earth

I have learnt the importance of differences
Of acceptance and equality
Try to not to judge or criticise
To the best of my ability

I have learnt the importance of gratitude
To appreciate life and all it beholds
To savour precious moments and times
Life goes by so fast and before you know it you are old!

I have learnt what is most important “to me”
What “ I” value most on earth
For me “It is loving others and being loved”
Being happy and appreciating life’s worth

Life is definitely an ongoing work in progress
Life lessons are not always easy to maintain
We often face hurdles and hardships 
Where we use learnt lessons and begin to learn new ones again!
© Deb M   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Ashtavakra Gita Verse 20:4

20.4
“Where is the unfolding of karma? 
Where is liberation-in-life,
or even liberation at death? 
There is only One”

Verse revisited on 14-September-2022

When fully undifferentiated is our awareness
Fully integrated with God consciousness 
There then remains no separate doer 
And God alone is the divine mover
In which case feeling complete
Vaporised self is bliss replete 
Knowing that God alone is
Felt within as a bliss fizz

However for the deluded
Duality reality as concluded
Even if glimmers of truth are seen
The soul has acquired not lustrous sheen
Thus attention oscillating between body and soul
Consciousness not quite God’s light we extol
Challenges of earth life’s learning curve 
Oft mitigates soul’s gusto and verve

Law of cause and effect stern
Rotates life roles until we so learn
That all are one and the truth is love 
Enabled when head-heart hand in glove
In resonance with enlivening throb of bliss
When our heart truthfully exclaims ‘I Am This!’
Until then oh weary hermit, it’s work in progress 
As the pulsations of love divine slowly make ingress
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Murderer Terrorizing My City

A murderer was terrorizing my city.
Everyone was fearful, even me,
and so I did what I do to relieve anxiety,
I began writing creatively.
I began to write a fictional story
written in the form of poetry
about this murderer terrorizing my city.
In the form of a journal or diary,
I would write as if this murderer was me.
I would scan the newspapers and watch the news on TV
everyday about this murderer terrorizing my city,
and then I'd imagine this fiend's activities
writing every dark detail in rhyme poetry.
I would post this work in progress privately
on Facebook so I could go back and work on it occasionally,
but one evening after heavy drinking at a party,
I accidently posted it publicly.
Does anyone know a good attorney?
I need one who can get Stevie Wonder a drivers license, seriously.
Form: Rhyme

The Crucifixion of Barna, Part 1 of 2

(In the late 1300's, veteran painter Barna of Siena 
was killed when he fell from the scaffolding whilst 
working on "The Crucifixion", the final panel of his 
fresco cycle in the Church of the Collegiata, in San
Gimignano, central Italy.) 

I'll mount the scaffold first, sir. Mind the rail - 
at one point there, it's not reliable. 
Oh, careful, sir. I'm flattered you should come 
from - Monteriggione, is it? - here 
to view the work in progress. As you see, 
- that rail, sir - the scheme is an ambitious one. 
You have the standard scriptural episodes 
arranged before you. Here, my Crucifixion 
- unfinished, need I say? - in pride of place. 
The pinnacle, and culminating piece! 
Oh sir, you're kind. You like the cobalt ground? 
I know my limitations. No, it's true. 
I'm past the time in life when confident morn 
returns upon the awareness, like a song 
remembered. See my hair? Once chestnut-gold, 
where now it is not knotted with hard paint, 
the years have slowly snowed the color off. 
I'll never go to Florence now. No, no, 
I mean it. I'm no longer sure I want to. 
We work on this commission - there's my son 
below, mixing the plaster - which is fine. 
I'm not an angel. God chose not to shower 
astounding gifts on me - no, hear me, sir! - 
as on his Chosen Ones. I don't resent it 
- not now. For man, there's no escape from work. 
Our ambit was determined by The Fall. 
And if I do this task, and do it well, 
do I not please my God? And think again - 
a thousand toilers in December mud 
in earshot of these bells would switch with me 
tomorrow, counting themselves blessed. Here 
I'm quiet, I direct the work, and if 
not warm, I'm neither rained nor spat upon - 
that's something. No, I can't say that I'm happy. 
It seems to me that few are born to that, 
lead lucky lives, have touched the Savior's hem. 
Who of the rest of us, if honest, can 
claim to be happy? Well, I certainly can't.

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