"lending" poems
Friendship is to trust
Friendship is having the kindness to help
Friendship is giving to others without thinking
Friendship is being there when someone need you
Friendship can be just a smile that brightens your day
Friendship is giving more than you expect to receive
Friendship is listening
Friendship is offering your opinion when you think you need to
Friendship can be many things
Friendship is different for everyone
Friendship could be holding a hand for support
Friendship is lending your shoulder to cry on
Friendship is mellow
Friendship is giving back
Friendship is only taking that what you need
Friendship can be that voice of reason you give
Friendship could also be a boost of encouragement when it’s needed
Friendship stands the test of time
Friendship is show in many different ways
Friendship can be everlasting
Friendship is not always an easy thing
Friendship is hard to break apart
Friendship is strong
Friendship should never be taken for granted
Friendship is meant to be shared with all
Friendship is free and rewarding to share
Friendship can be unforgettable
Friendship is priceless to many
Friendship is a secret never to be told
Friendship is not having to say sorry but do
Friendship is not judging no matter what
Friendship is to share, the joy and the fear
Friendship is someone to run too when things are tough
Friendship is a hand to hold when things are so rough
Friendship is someone to laugh with not at you
Friendship is just knowing they are there
Friendship is very personal
Friendship is all of these things and many more
This is are how I see friendship
To have a true Friend is the best thing to achieve
We all have one but it may take a very long time to find them.
For You Kiwi, Thank You So Much X
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
At times I heard the songs of the giants
who opted to sing for a glass of wine!
Like Omar Khayyam would sing to the grove of vine,
while singing their lullabies they wouldn’t mind,
defying the bloomer stars in the moonlights
gladly treading on the black alleys of the night.
Didn't they budge, didn't they bend to pick up
a potion of the sea, billowing in the dark?
But they opted out, just for a glass of wine!
To paint a glimpse of that gorgeous Saqi
till now they shun, lending the sun a paintbrush,
‘cause "if only it was colourful enough,” yet the sun
paints the enduring shades of the blue yonder.
But they turned around—just for a glass of wine!
The moon hanging low over the ocean took a pause.
The earth weighed down so deep is brimful!
Every sunrise paints new, loves to shine on once more
That delved-deep earth vintage taste, cooled in age-old,
now close by the hands breathe in, full of warm south.
Yet they opted out—just for a glass of wine!
Even the time is speechless, ask me not but why.
Still keeps an ear bent on the wall of the leaning sky.
Nor those who pop out with an inside scoop are ever drunk.
Nor they leak out, it’s a sea off the sea or Abe-Hayath.
It ain’t that small, it is the deathless spring of elixir!
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 9:16 PM UTC
'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,
But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.
And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.
16.4k
This is for my generation.
A generation full of selfies, in short for selfish.
A generation of women murdering their own unborn babies.
Woman walk around half dressed hoping a man will grant them respect.
As they reclaim their lives, renaming it feminism at it's best.
This is for my generation.
A generation of men that rather play with their hands.
Rather than creating work out of their bare hands.
Lusting for women as if we were created for one night stands.
We are the millennials. We're full of worldly distractions.
Looking for our parents to be the lending tree.
Since we spend most of our money on ***** & ****
This is for my generation.
Can't you see we're slowly dying off? We are becoming too self involved.
While every pleasure keeps causing our own demise.
We're too stubborn to realize our ways are flawed.
We mask it and look for love in other people. Yet, we feel emptier when the love isn't reciprocated. Some call this "unrequited love".
This is for my generation.
I'm here to tell you that, you are loved, you are cherished, and you can be forgiven. You can be saved, not by your works or how much money you make.
If you only believe what He did for you on the cross.
The perfect blood Atonement.
We are the Godless generation. Most would say they believe in evolution, perhaps others would mention God.
This is for my generation.
See, Jesus didn't come for the religious people. In fact, he called them frauds. He's more than just a bunch of rules and laws. In reality, He only came to save the lost. Which lead him to be hated, beaten and killed on a cross. 3 days later, He rose from the dead something Allah never did.
Now that our King is risen, He's offering a free gift of salvation. That's why it's called Grace. Being coming Christian doesn't make you perfect, don't get it twisted. I'm just a forgiven sinner by His definition.
The choice is yours.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 3:43 AM UTC
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
A
bone
slowly
woke
just
in
time
to
become
brok(en).
Once spoken,
there's no point
of lending an ear.
There'll be a violent
jerking of the wheel,
deceptive *** appeal,
and an unrequited (love).
Now, unwillingly, it's open.
The rhyme is deliberately late,
but it's not tardy enough to satiate
Swelling lungs-we're just getting started.
Both for respiratory and broken-hearted.
Here, we speak of energy-specifically kinetic
Because you can't live in love and good faith
with right hemisphere real, and left prosthetic.
AND THAT'S WHERE THIS BEAUTIFULLY KICKS IN.
Picking up faster and quicker and clearer
and headlights have never come nearer.
But I'll be somewhat content lying at rest.
While lively and enthusiastic is best,
unemployed potential is all I can be.
It's something to unwillingly see.
You'll watch the clean breaks
as the marrow escapes.
As I steadily gush
onto pavement
you'll see
how
idle
I
can
really
be.
As
I
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
*Friendships come and friendships go,
some may wither, some may grow.
Some die from a careless word
and some from rumors one has heard.
Some fail when "connections" die
and some die from a toxic lie.
But some are nurtured from the start
by "fertilizer" from the heart,
loyalty and "being there"
when others fail, when they should care.
So, as a friend I'd truly be
always listening, if you need.*
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
An exchange of temptations that led to a hidden ordeal
On an act of carnal ecstasy made to seal a deal
The gamble to see if it’s worth lending a piece of the soul
While trembling inside for the choices that would soon take toll
The signs of deceit slowly surfaced but were shrugged despite suspicion
Until a hasty flight provoked inner unrest and affliction
Vivid memories of a previous torment come back haunting
Knowing full well the Succubus affinity for betraying
With logic and reason as both weapon and armor
Against an enemy not easily made for capture
Bargaining on a final bet that her grip be brought to nothing
To release the mind from seemingly rotting
The bargain commenced along with foreseen treason
The sought peace only a hollow victory in a silently echoing frustration
In total silence with a feeling that heavily burned
A mental wall built to signify the lesson learned
Screams of pain of the innards locked away in reticence
Occurring to just seemingly mock the brilliance
With great resolve brought by the treachery writhing in virulence
Came the vigilance of avoiding such penitence
And to never again taste the Succubus’ Sting in Silence
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
I'm head starting the challenging life
12th grade decides my future strife.
Herein lies the mystery of tomorrow
Destiny of the mighty ship in my carefull row.
Not asking for incredible flourishing results
But delivering support for my stupendous work.
Not asking for imaginative unreachable marks
But holding my hands to provide the best of myself.
Not asking to pour elixir for hardwork devoid outcome
But strolling me through the gates of earnestness.
Not asking for your substitution in me
But to confront me with your intrepid grace.
Not asking for grade ten replica
But lending me the same earnest virtue.
Help me ignore the incompatible watchers,
To provide the least hope of comparing
Falling in despair in other's successful fruits.
But to help better and improvise my solitary results
And shelter me in your house of modesty.
No beneficial ranks but the submissive marks
that lends a hair to my cognitive efforts
To grant me light in the death of night.
Let me blossom as tranquily as the sunflower
Yet not vanish in the glory of jubliation
But gradually offer me petals
And extend the reliance day by day.
Mindful and heeding my compatible hardwork
Finally, let me conquer the glamorous colour
Of my utmost individuality.
Rehabilating the small hopes intro pristine reality
Aware of the hunger turning to lime light
To strike a chord for my year before.
Take me on your hands, float me through
legitimate mistakes, rip me apart in the wave
of unquenchable thirst and finally wrap me out as
a champion badge of jaded grade twelve.
Finally,
Bless me God, provide eternal marvels
Bless me God, honour the righteous path
As the testimony of your judicious grace
Bless me God, I'm starting life (grade twelve)
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Talent,
It's not in the art you make,
Words you sing,
Or grades you get.
It's doing what few do.
It's lending a hand.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 8:16 PM UTC
Spirits may come spirits may go.
The only talk to those they know.
Those who have a lending ear and listen to the others here.
Usually grey haired old bags with 20 cats and 40 ****
But Anna isn't quite the same she's not what visitors expect.
She greets each one with a smile.
But their eyes can't see they miss by miles!
Instead the look upon her chest, for what a smashing pair of *******
I even think the spooks just come to take a peak at her ***
Imagine that a ghost on top with an enormous supernatural ****
Slid between her silky legs until she screams and begs and begs.
A medium she thought it was, in fact it was an XL ****
A frenzy in the reading room as more arrive to see her moan.
It's like a wiken **** now, at 44 she's in her prime.
I wonder who will "come" next time.
The psychic circle all a gasp, are playing with their mortal tackle.
Who would have thought she wore a basque, underneath a witches tac.
Now its like a wanking club, spooks and mortals all a tug.
finally she howls with delight.
Another soul has seen the light!
So remember when you see her pass check her **** and little *** imagine she's on top of you in stockings basque and heels to.
Though one thing you should bare in mind...
Unless your dead forget it mate!
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 4:20 PM UTC
Your shrill, yet oddly pleasant sound, echoes loudly down the long corridor.
I try to ignore you as the jaunty sound clashes with my melancholy mood,
Yet I find the notes and melodies cling to my mind like tissue stuck to a shoe,
Hanging on for it's own amusement,
Ignorant of my desire not to be teased nor humoured at this anxious time.
I feel I shouldn't like your racket,
My naïve ears and young years sense, not only an inappropriate comedy in your sound,
But also a daunting undertone,
Adding to my sense of having been plunged into deep icy waters.
Perhaps your music soothes those who are leaving,
Your high happy notes providing optimism and assurance of recovery,
Or of a restful sleep enveloping dear ones.
For me, however, at the point of no-return in my pilgrimage,
I hear only the low notes,
Out of time with my quickened pulse,
And lending a foreboding soundtrack to my slow deliberate steps.
But you play for no pay,
Busking in this hospital,
Doing good both night and day.
Yes, you are well known in this place,
Admired for the hours you commit to this space where lives can hang in the balance,
And where your instrument by day is a sharp sleek scalpel,
Invasive in its desire to alleviate suffering,
Your steady, practiced hand rehearsed and well versed in the methodically planned procedure of a surgical concerto.
But out of hours your instrument of choice lends you a voice,
Allowing flourishes and improvisations.
But were you aware that for visitors like me who visited repeatedly,
The clarinet would take on a significance beyond other instruments,
Taking me instantly back to bittersweet memories of visiting my family,
As, in turn, they aged and became unwell and recovered and became unwell again.
Now I am older and a little wiser,
I reflect and ruminate on this period;
My memories of family are more than just hospital visits,
And I wonder if I could ask one thing of you?
Why no Rhapsody in Blue?!
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Your leadership is like the air,
With presence, only whispered,
You live far & further,
Furthest from our hands can find,
Your haste has filled our hearts,
Hating you like hell, that highly feeds on flesh
What else will I compare your leadership that hurts,
Better the typhoon wind that destroys quickly and leave, than your leadership that destroys slowly over years
What else will I compare with your leadership that destructs.
Better the lion that kills only to live for that day,
Than your lingering greed of wealth that outweighs your weight,
Taking all gain, from all day five
They say, the world has wealth for all to live well,
But not for you, one vested with immense greed!
What else will I compare, a leadership that is great with greed.
Better the drought and famine that withers our wealth, with equal measure across
But with humility of nature,
leaving pieces of trace, to rejuvinate all again,
Than your leadership that is out to loot all,
Lending little to your loyalists,
Leaving none to the rest
Your leadership is like the air,
With presence, only whispered,
You live far & further,
Furthest from our hands can reach,
Your haste filled our hearts,
Hating you like hell, highly feeds on flesh
What else will I compare your leadership
Better the typhoon wind that destroys quickly and leave, than your leadership that destroys slowly over years
What else will I compare with your leadership that destructs.
Better the lion that kills only to live for that day,
Than your lingering greed of wealth that outweighs your weight,
Taking all gain, from all day five
They say, the world has wealth for all to live well,
But not for you, one vested with immense greed!
What else will I compare, a leadership that is great with greed.
Better the drought and famine that withers our wealth, with equal measure across and humility to leave a apiece, than your leadership that is out to loot all, lending little to your loyalists.
Better the diseases that kills with slow eating the body, with no prevention and cure than your leadership that
etter the diseases that kills with slow eating the body, with no prevention and cure than your leadership that
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits
and discourage withdrawals,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe
betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend any money to anybody unless
they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worried about their rent it is your duty to deny
them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving
of the martyred son of the late Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must
look at them like Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the
jungle,
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow, they had
better go get the money from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they
want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you
urge them to accept every drop of it,
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off
with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no
hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want the
money sent or do they want to take it withm.
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
the ********* who go around saying that health and happi-
ness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant
money to maintain their health and happiness they starve
to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good
old money, which is nothing short of providential.
4.5k
she just wants to be loved
she just wants to be missed
trying to be the best friend
always lending an ear
sadness sinks in
she wants the world to know she'll be there
but in turn who will be there for her?
she doesn't know
and claims to not care
a heart filled with pain
a lonely friend to a stranger
she wishes she could save the world
yet she thinks about burning it to hell
nothing matters in this life of hers
she soon will die
will someone care?
she soon will perish
did she matter?
what words of hers changed the world?
none.
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 2:07 AM UTC
we're always lending out a hand
a hand that asks why
we're always lending out a hand
one asking why is it I want to die
we're always lending out a hand
a hand that leads you to surprise
we're always lending out a hand
saying what happens if I cry?
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 6:56 AM UTC
We are called to a royal priesthood, to shine throughout every land. May we be the world's example, by lending a helping hand.
Lord, help us in this position, to pray for one another. When the world sees us, let love flow out to our brother.
Lord, let us shine forth your Spirit, in a holy way. Let the world see Jesus Christ, let them see us pray.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
What the **** was that?
Did I go crazy for a second?
Did Joey B really take my soul or possess my heart?
Did he **** my mind or maybe did he take it apart?
I'll go with the later. He's an intellectual. He did what he could to steal it all. I don't know why I thought I could hold up against his manipulation. I'm strong-hearted, strong willed. I know now that it's not my love that could save his soul. At the same time it is, because my love is a part of all love. I should have known that if he could withstand it all, I stood no chance.
I know I care too much. I have no power to save. I can heal myself, maybe others too but I can't be their change. They have to choose for themselves. I've known that too. I guess to truly learn I had to face it head on.
But lessons learned, now I am living for me. I'm living for my destiny. What that is? Still learning. I know I am to serve. Serve me, myself, and others because that is what we deserve. Though now I know I must serve with protection. All love. Still open. My heart is saved for those like-minded. We must join together and that is how we save lives. I dabbled in lust and temptation for the last time. I will still make mistakes. Imperfection is our lives. Nothing ever again of such magnitude. Never again will I allow myself to be so tainted. Never again will I see others in such a situation. I know others I can't change but I will offer my lending hand.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
With this Gift our Sterling Mentor progress
In lending your time for our Efforts grow
Though at first we fear the Alum Rod - less,
Is really your Way of True Friendship show
Though I ask where the First Silence once had
Was which my Stamps took your Character stern
That I actualise; A Great Heart you have
Which we Stunned Locals have begun to Learn
And really do your Words explain the Map
This Growing Business where our Voices speed
Helping your Brethren on their Cards and Lap
With Excelled Service do we take great heed.
And now you Return where most Teachers rest
Feeling confident that we did our Best.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:42 PM UTC
My dear bestfriends,
Who’ve become my safe space,
The other home I run to for solace,
Thank you for lending your ears and hand,
For becoming the sister I never had,
Thank you for deciding to stay,
Despite circumstances coming into play,
Thank you for being gentle and kind with my heart,
Safeguarding my innermost secrets from the very start
My dear bestfriends,
Time and time again you’ve proven me,
It’s never about the amount of time we
Spend together when we are together,
Rather it’s the small acts of love that changed my life
It’s the random check-ins, love confessions and life talks,
The birthday presents of stickers, books and silly socks
My dear bestfriends,
Life has a funny way of meeting us together,
All of us travellers of different passages,
Yet our stars remain aligned no matter the weather,
I’m proud of who you you’ve become
And now I am proud to see who I’ve become
Because I see little fragments of you
Ingrained in little fragments of me too
Sep 3, 2021
Sep 3, 2021 at 11:39 AM UTC
Who controls our banking?
Ruinous fees for money lending.
Who questions their investing?
Why so dear for money dealing?
Who does profit from accounting?
Our finances they're controlling,
While our economy they're ruining,
They're amassing fortunes pecuniary,
Big business for them, commercially.
Let's question their accountability
For our faceless Australian economy,
Profits overseas they're sending---
So much for Australian banking!!!
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
Metaphorically, you are a sly simile,
Stealing my heart
Like the smooth criminal
You often pretend to be.
I am the ineffable euphony of
Melodious sing-song
Slip-falling through the space
Between tone-deaf ears.
Such handsome hyperbole
You have turned out to be.
Pompous, peacock-ing Adonis
Lending love that's just platonic.
Alliterative rhythmic rhyme
Ticks the tumultuous internal time.
Fleeting fiend, you soon will find
Lust in lieu of love is a loathsome, lonely life.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
she walks a line
straight and defined
though her values are crooked
her beauty is divine
and in her smile
the sun
brighter than a thousand bulbs
of the electric kind,
she is the moon,
lending to the bleak night
light, typically removed
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 8:56 PM UTC
*Can you see me standing here?
High above you all so tall?
Don't you worry, never fear,
I'll never let anyone else feel small.*
**Tired of the sight of seeing you lonely,
No one in this world is perfect,
Protect you from this cruel world,
Only if you bring me your sympathy,
Showering me in your stories,
And bring me so much joy and laughter,
Perishing all your worries,
Creating a new amiable chapter.**
*Right here and now,
The time is right.
I've seen your struggle,
I've seen your plight.
I'm here to help,
Lending a strong hand
I'll never let you go,
Please understand.
This is truth,
This is the light.
I won't let you down,
We'll win this fight.*
**You were the greatest,
You were my strafe,
I vowed the world,
To keep you safe,
There's no denying,
This is your home,
This is your life,
This is your place,
I only want the best for you,
I'd be glad to see your face.**
*I smile upon you, keeping this sacred vow,
To stand by your side, even if we journey through hell.
There is no use, trying to ask me how,
No, we will not hide, until the evil we cross has fell.*
**And as it burns,
You finally get what you wished for.
Don't ever lose a turn,
Play your cards right , don't draw blood , draw fours.
The only thing I need from you is love,
You know what they say,
Love is an open door.**
*We can walk through,
Hand in hand.
Following along,
With the ultimate plan.
It's now or never,
Time to choose.
Either way, together,
We can never lose.*
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
Tonight I married a graffiti artist.
This is the third time I’ve been proposed to
at some ***** house party.
This time there was an ordained all-faith minister
on the porch smoking a cigarette. That was enough.
I said yes.
We’re all strictly first-name-basis here, nicknames are even better.
So to him I’m just Mimi. Focused intently on my hand,
he draws my wedding ring with a permanent marker
and kisses each finger as he finishes.
There is a tiny replica of his tattoo on the underside of my finger
in addition to my gigantic drawn-on diamond.
It is my favorite part.
We talk politics and eventually art.
Turns out he’s sort of an amazing artist.
He said he’d put my name up on a wall but I don’t believe him.
Intricate, passionate, and thoughtful.
His smile is adventure.
That’s why I married him.
He asked to read my poetry and in my fuzzy judgment I let him.
Maybe he even liked a few phrases.
And he was polite as a hopped up boy can be.
Getting me home before three,
lending me his jacket without me asking.
I know he’ll forget to call, or that he even has my number.
and that we won’t watch Pulp Fiction
tomorrow.
That I was really just a glorified
snort of some white powder,
I am like all the glitter that fades in the morning
like smiles do, or permanent marker
after a few washes.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 1:24 AM UTC
A teachers heart is one of learning.
Of constant modification.
Lending pieces of it at the sound of a child's voice.
What is not seen
Are the broken parts.
The times when my heart falls out of my chest.
My child, I am sorry
My child, you don't deserve it
My child, here is safe
A heart of protection.
Showing each student their worth
Value more valuable than the words of this poem
Without you my child
My heart
Would simply
collapse
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC