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Long Culture Poems | Long Culture Poetry

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

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Long Poems
Long poem by Vee Bdosa | Details |

The Death of Tutankhamen

       THE DEATH OF TUTANKHAMEN

                 I.

The king is dead--and layed within his place,
  and night has fallen as it did before,
within his tomb he hides his golden face
  and waits to live and breath and love once more;

a grain of sand will last as long has he--
  young man--did they not tell you in your youth
That time will fade away, and secretly,
  while you await, to feel and know the truth?

And Tutankhamen, time will not reveal
  the secrets of the past, they fade away--
and all the things you long to know and feel
  are gone before they see the light of day.

  How old are you, young man, four thousand years--
  or just as old as all our hopes and fears?

                 II.
You're just as old, I guess, as any dream
  and just as far away as space permits,
improvident sometimes, and yet we seem
  agglomerated to a life that fits--

We come and go--in circumspectful daze--
  disgruntled in our youth, and growing old,
and never seem to see the proper ways
  and disinclined to hear the things we're told--

exhonerating all that we have known,
   who take until there's nothing left to give,
for life is just a path that we have flown,
  from other dreams, where other dreamers live.

  This mass we call "myself" will soon return
  to heaven space, or maybe it will burn.

                  III.

The power in us all is dominant--
  just as the time of Tutankhamens womb,
from birth we go through life--intransigent
  and hope the best will be beyond the tomb.

We hope that space is part of better things
  just as belief--in Akhen Atens day,
we feel the same as did Egyptian kings
  who looked at life as where they'd choose to stay;

exacerbated, as we live and grow,
  to better space, than what we have and feel,
and though it's part of life we do not know--
  it's just as dear--and just as harsh and real.

  How old are we? Not one could estimate,
  and if they did, they'd tilt the hands of fate.

               IV.

The pylon gates that lead to peace of mind
  are open to the ones who search at night,
but truth in life is sometimes hard to find
  and pyramids block out the glow of light--

while deep below--mastabas hold the past
  and keep it safe--from any mortal eyes--
with stores of grain--while sun gods gold and cast,
  stare into space--where only darkness lies--

and Tutankhamens silence is a thing
  to last five thousand years of growing old,
at best--his wish was but to be the king
  within a life that's cast and locked in gold--

  and Akhen Aten knows he is okay
  that's why he will not lead his soul astray

               V.

but Akhen Aten hides his face at night--
  and southern breezes cool the scorching air,
and any sound is whispered soft and light--
  because there's no one list'ning anywhere;

nomadic tribes have perched upon his rock,
  and never knew that Tutankhamen hears--
each sound of life--each key that could unlock
  his mortal soul--if they would use their ears,

if they would see--the sun god is a friend,
  and leads to light, where Tutankhamen sleeps,
how many minds would see his mortal end--
 is not his death--though in our mind it creeps--

 and takes away the youth of ev'ry man
 and sends it to the time where time began;

             VI.

How old are you--young man--why do you stare?
  The world awaits for you to raise your soul--
though fettered to the wind--and ev'rywhere,
  in time a dream will make you free and whole--

to walk again--the Valley of the Kings
  and ride upon the waters of the Nile--
where spirits bathe, and Nephritite sings,
  the secrets of the past--for yet a while,

the world is obdurate of any scheme,
  that brings new life--once death has made its' call
though greater men than you--have known this dream,
  not one still hides behind his secret wall--

  and no remains--stay hidden to the past--
  if golden chains are known to hold them fast.
© ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet


Long poem by Funom Makama | Details |

I Said, He Said

Finding a new hiding place the grass cutters cherish not taking advantage is deemed extremely foolish. Taking note of the lady who seems Scottish and protected by her beauty and charisma is a situation meant for me to act upon With my courage, her intimidation must vanish. I sit on the available chair and reciprocate her welcoming smile. "Your fixed focus on the meal and comfortable sitting position means you are all alone"......... I said "So?"...................... She said. Despite being famished I needed some inspiration and creativity to keep this hard to find wealth rooted to my territory. "But your moving feet and gentle mastication shows you need company"...... I said "Well! You may be right"........She said. My gaze never left her blue eyes as this ravishing being threatens to tarnish my reputation. "What brings a working class attractive, young damsel to a place like this?"........ I said "to eat"................. She said. Nature came to my rescue as what arrived was my dish garnished with vegetables and fish. "Avoiding someone or is it just humility?"............ I said "neither"......................she said. As the Cheetah waits patiently to pounce on its prey so I am. Waiting for the right time to tick. "Your short phrase answers remind me of a princess from India"............... I said. "Thanks, but who was she to you?".............. She said. Now in a welcomed territory with the precious gift of liberty and freedom. the bee is about to dance with the rest in their honey comb. "My first Love but no more"....... I said "What happened?......She said It seems the path chosen is right what is left is for us to walk through it. Nothing else, just walk, walk and walk. "She developed the arrogance of a Briton".....I said "Just that! She's worth a second chance if she's as tough as the Jew"..... She said. Can the dog ever be the king of the jungle? can the bamboo boast of deeper roots to the Oak? That's me! Sitting on all of Nature's components right now. "Oh my dear! That spoils it all".....I said "Really? Tell me more"..... She said. As my Tongue wags my brain remained blank with its sensors dissipated. "Are you saying she should be quick to anger ?.... I said "You mean the Jews are quick to anger?...... She said The more the talk the more her welcome. A pleasure to behold and an experience to die for. "Yes and also very cunny"..... I said "How's that?"......She said. My mouth speaks of another to an Angel who seems so human while the mind is already in full possession of this being so unfamiliar but dear. "I was once given change with two $4 bills inclusive in a Jewish shop"...... I said "hahahahahahahaha! Then the Jews are indeed silly and crafty"...... She said Feeling already in the promise land, I drink its milk without asking and lick its honey without minding "the deed always speak for the doer".... I said "But it's still an assumption and not all may be same"..... She said. A little current then passes through my head stimulating the need to seal this opportunity. "Forget about those devils! What if I say we hang out tonight?"..... I said "No, actually!".....She said. Impressed by her feminine flame which is not uncommon to gorgeouses of her class I pulled the gear once more awaiting the motion to begin. "After such an interesting chat you say no? Are you seeing someone?"....I said "No! But I am a Jew and one of those devils"...... She said. Starring in frustration and self-hate, I stay inanimate, lifeless and dumb, while she laughs graciously which increases the already existent injuries, cutting me piece by piece in the inside. Nothing I said Nothing she said.


Long poem by Ian Howard | Details |

I Felt the Earth

I Felt the Earth

There in the valley reaching for the sun
Our younger days were such fun
Though the struggle to be
Was so much for me?

The valley walls were so tall
That I would fear they would fall
Then bury me, it was so little that I did see
As the sun did run its course

The silence still echoes in my mind
Where I had trod in younger times
The valleys hole deep under ground
Would give and take of those around

It to me didn’t seem so clear
As I was to young, and didn’t see
Why they would do this for such as me
Then laugh as their days sped by

Sinking shafts of killing coal
They would just each morning go
To where I would ask in questions few
As it was hard to speak to you

Who slaved all of your day’s
For such paltry sums
Quality of life and then some
They would take all these things away

You did this For Me

Even now in these modern days
They do the same a different ways
As we would still not know
That under ground you would toil so

Then later as time, did pass me to be
A thinking man for all to see
I would wonder at it all
That why you should have been there at all

From healthy folk to coughing wrecks
It took its toll of fine young men
This land that we loved so, and then again
We loved it for it was home

Fear not to turn up at the old people’s graves
There to talk of those long gone days
That left the greedy ones flying so high
Though to little me and mine, we cry to be

We had so little that had to go so far
Ask your mother around to tea
Talk over fences and laugh with me
At the way of folks that err

The life though hard was still there to see
Now came the new age just for you and me
Things were changed where I had grown
I could not leave you there alone

To strive to be good was all we could do
At what things you now saw and knew
In church yards this valley through
I will still visit there to talk to you

There to relate of the now times
To tell of tales that you once knew
I hope it sees your eternity through
Deep under ground there stirs not a thing

I see You Now

Nothing now the mines have gone
Just old memories now held in song
Blackened faces coughing, choking shrouds
Clouds of long past days held your ways

For other folk you toiled away
The sun that stretched the valley so
Is brighter now than you did know
The changing of the valleys ways

Brought on in so many places
Cannot replace your blackened faces
That even now had so many graces
Hear now, to the green grass you gave to me

Gone are spoons to say I love you so
Take me back I you implore
To walk once again the valley floor
Mind that hole my little dear

It’s where the miners use to play
The fear they had, has gone away
My child look to the hills you will see
Lumps and bumps graves of yesterday

Which on green grass spills
Over to cover mine droppings
That took its toll, they said it couldn’t be
Do not look you mustn’t see

The changes of one type of poverty
To this one place we hold so dear
Gone are the mines but what’s this I hear
There are new things to take their places

Today I Cry

No longer blackened, we’ve changed places
Little boxes with electronic faces
That sings your praise and makes you feel
Yet where’s the money to pay the bills

No matter that we are coming to
The centuries end for you and me
It’s the same now as it will always be
My grown up child don’t look at me

When I say, I would rather be
Back there in days gone by, believe me
Then if you catch me sometimes its fine
Where you may see me cry for that time

It’s not for the passing of my friends
That all these warm tears descend
Rolling then falling without end
It’s for the future that we are told

That will be better now that you are old
Not so grown child of mine
The poverty has just been refined
There on the soil that I left behind

Was as, and is always now
Where the earth feels the same


Long poem by John Arribas | Details |

CORRUPTION

CORRUPTION
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS


NOW THAT I’M APPROACHING THE FINAL INNING
I NEED TO RE ASSESS THE IDEAS I HAD AT THE BEGINNING
I THOUGHT THAT IF YOU WERE ALTRUISTIC AND RIGHT
THAT ALONE WAS THE STRENGTH NEEDED TO FIGHT
TO HELP THOSE LESS FORTUNATE TRULY IN NEED
BUT FEW WILL HELP, UNLESS YOU SATISFY THEIR GREED


LYING AND CHEATING SHOULD BE AN OLYMPIC SPORT
FAVORS ARE GRANTED, THEN COMES THE EXTORT
EVERYONE LIES OR EXAGGERATES ON AN APPLICATION
TAKE AN OATH IN COURT, LIE,  FEAR NO  CONDEMNATION
MOST PILFERAGE IN STORES OCCUR BY THOSE WITH KEYS
USUALLY DONE BY, THE MOST TRUSTED EMPLOYEES


CHEATING USUALLY STARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES 
EXPANDS ASTRONOMICALLY WITH ELECTRONIC  AIDS
BECOMES QUITE EVIDENT WHEN YOU’RE ALL ALONE
UNABLE TO COMPLETE A QUESTIONNAIRE ON YOUR OWN  
OVERSTATE YOUR INCOME WHEN YOU APPLY FOR A LOAN
BANKER KNOWS IT, OKS IT, MORE MONEY HE TAKES HOME


MANUFACTURERS SELL PRODUCTS WITH GUARANTEES
WITH SO MANY CAVEATS THERE’S LITTLE COMFORT TO SEE
RETURN IT IN THE ORIGINAL BOX AND CONDITION
IF ANY THINGS MISSING WE WONT HONOR YOUR PETITION
THEY KNOW STATISTICALLY WHAT PERCENTAGE WILL COMPLY
ALL THE REST ARE SUBJECT THE MANUFACTURERS GOODBYE


HOME NURSING SERVICES ARE SELDOM COMPLETE
POORLY TRAINED PERSONNEL OR STRAIGHT OFF THE STREET
TAKING A FEW ITEMS FROM WHERE YOU WORK
MANY CONSIDER IT AN OCCUPATIONAL PERK
EVERYONE CHEATS IT’S A PART OF OUR DNA
WE DO IT REPEATEDLY EACH AND EVERY DAY


CORRUPTION(2)


THE BIGGEST OFFENDERS CAN BE FOUND WHERE YOU LIVE
GOVERNMENTS SQUANDER THE TAXES THAT EACH US GIVE
JUICY CONTRACTS ARE METED OUT TO PARTY CRONIES
EXTRAS TO CONTRACTS THAT ARE USUALLY PHONEY
NO BID DEALS TO FRIENDS DUE TO EXIGENT CONDITIONS
THEN ADD MORE DUE TO NEEDLESS REVISIONS


THEY BUILD BRIDGES TO NOWHERE A TOTAL SHAM
A BIG PARTY DONOR WANTS TO DEVELOP HIS LAND
A NEW STADIUM IS DEMANDED BY A PROFESSIONAL TEAM
TAX MONEY IS USED BUT THE PUBLIC’S GAIN YET TO BE SEEN
ITS EASY TO GET PUBLIC OFFICIALS TO VOTE ON A PROPOSAL
JUST PUT PLENTY OF CAMPAIGN MONEY AT THEIR DISPOSAL


DONORS ARE CAUTIOUS, CLEVER THEY HEDGE THEIR BETS
GIVE TO ALL THE CANDIDATES AVOIDING ANY REGRETS
ITS NOT UNUSUAL FOR A BUSINESS TO DONATE A LARGE SUM
WHILE ALL THE EMPLOYEES SUPPORT THE OPPOSITE ONE
ITS NOT UNUSUAL FOR THE EMPLOYER TO GIVE RESTITUTION
AN AMOUNT  EQUAL TO THE POLITICAL CONTRIBUTION


AND THEN THERE ARE THE UNASHAMED POLITICIANS
WHO WILL PROMISE WHATEVER TO FULFILL THEIR AMBITIONS
LEGISLATION IS PASSED AND THEY REVEL IN PRAISE
EXEMPTING THEMSELVES AND GETTING A RAISE
THEY FOLLOW THE POLLS SO THEY CAN STEER
THEIR PROMISES AIMED AT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR


CORRUPTION GOES DEEPER THAN JUST HELPING YOURSELF
JUSTIFYING LYING AND CHEATING TO LACK OF WEALTH
WE STEAL FROM OUR WORK WE LIE TO OUR BOSS
IT DOESN’T HURT HIM HE CAN TAKE A INFLATED LOSS
STORM DAMAGED MY HOUSE BELOW THE DEDUCTIBLE
I’LL BREAK A FEW THINGS AND MAKE IT LOOK PLAUSIBLE
CORRUPTION(3)


CORRUPTION IS MOST HEINOUS RISING TO THE TOP OF THE LIST
WHEN SAFETY CONCERNS ARE IGNORED PUTTING LIVES AT RISK
MEN WORKING IN HAZZARDS CONDITIONS LIKE SAY  A MINE
NEED ATTENTION PAID TO SAFETY BEFORE THE BOTTOM LINE
PROPER MAINTENANCE IS IMPERATIVE NO MATTER THE COST
WHEN THERE’S A CHANCE THAT LIVES MAY BE LOST


CORRUPTION HAS ANOTHER NAME ITS CALLED GREED
DUMP THE SCRUPLES GO GET WHAT YOU NEED
THE BIGGER THE PAYOFF THE BIGGER THE CRIME
PUT A SMALL DENT IN CORRUPTION WE HAVE TIME
WHEN A CHILD TRIES TO EXCUSE HIS ACTIONS WITH A LIE









Long poem by Arline Jeanette Wagner | Details |

From Hope

So, sorry for you claiming this sad, sad world;
In your desperate means to cling to a disintegrating dream of mankind;
Your rose colored goggles fogging with deception and hate;
I apologize to every spirit and soul caught in the murky web of lies,
This spinning ball of corrupted good intentions gone bad,
Yes, our earth, our home and gift,
This dreaded habitat of tainted visions for peace or for incitement of war.

I cry for you, my tears are overwhelming.
My heavy coat of gloom is so heavy and thick.
Slowly I feel my mind go as the thick and over whelming desperation weighs on my collapsing soul;
Crushing Pandora’s hope, snuffing out a light once bright, fired heart’s will.
Will of wonder, want, need, desolate attempts of which to take away the ragged and rusty nails that pierced the shells of constitutions and democracy.
Calloused feet and wounded beliefs.

Yes, I cry for you.
It’s hard to not wear the guilt for you all,
To feel the pain endured
To observe the murders, rapists, and such.

Forgive me for being so weak.
Frozen,
Eyes wide shut,
Unable to cast a glance away. 
Forced to see all tiresome and dreary people end each others existence based merely on that of seconds lasted animosity, feelings, emotions.


Regret,
Minutes after the haughty sauce of misconceptions,
has boiled countries alive; one foul mouth, one wrong step, one deranged political suggestion that leaves third world countries ready to devour each other. 

Wishes, dreams, hopes of hopeless attempts,
Harbored by an ant compared to the greater of all,
With desires to end it all.

Where is Zeus? 
Or, is it our divine and sole God and Son?
Where are the superior species with promise to return with the antidote to our chaos and suicidal destructive ways?
Where is our Superman?

No pure hearted man will step up and solve it all.

No more tears today, the well of sorrow has dried. 
The will to go on in the watch of all the death when there are so many ways to resurrect in watch of illness and disease when the man with the badge holds so many cures.

Yes, Pandora was opened and Hope has watched and Hope has stayed a distance.
Hope has tried to hope, yet, in vain.
Hope has run out of determination;
Given up on all things.

No more audience for you on earth.



Now we fall to stone,
With good will and hope clenched in cold hands. 
We all fall down; crumble to pieces.

My mind is dead, the soul has ceased to exist.
My eyes are closed.
I see no more.
My tongue dried to clay crumbles.
I speak no more.

So sorry I am for you all claiming this sad, sad, world.
For all those suffering,
We once fried rivers of empathy;
Screamed in anguish for sicknesses stiffened fingers grasping for a cure.
Death means to collapse the rock upon which you all dwell.
Writhed and rathed in turmoil we did.
Taking mankind’s pain, sickness, and death to our hearts.

In the end we stay.
Hope ends, as the earth crumbles the motherly need to comfort even as humanities end lays hope to rest. Like the light of a dwarf star slowly snuffed out over millennia’s end. 


So, so sorry for you claiming this sad, sad world in your desperate means to cling to a disintegrating dream of a utopian mankind.



Long poem by Kelly Crenshaw | Details |

I hope

I'm 51 today.
51 tomorrow, yay
Was 51 yesterday.
52 is months away,
And yes I'm thankful.
Although it's not my real birthday,
It kinda is in a certain way.
I'm still alive another day.
I had the notion to celebrate.
And be thankful.
Though it's not a holiday. 
Thanksgiving has come and gone away,
I'm just alive today.
For that I'm thankful.
Honestly, I am not just trying to make these lines rhyme,
Or reflect upon the deep sublime.
I'm just grateful today to be alive.
I mean really thankful.
I'm not trying to wow you with philosophy,
Or impress you with theology.
It matters not at all to me.
I just feel thankful.
So tonight I take a walk outside,
I look up into the endless sky and then I breathe.
I breathe in deep,
And I say thank you.
And maybe not just to Who you think, 
Man let's throw in the kitchen sink,
And include all who've touched my life, to whom I'm thankful.
Some of you I'm glad you're gone,
Frankly you stayed a bit too long
And some you the grave stole far too soon,
And yet I'm still thankful.
Today the living and the dead
You've both been right up inside my head, 
And synergized this verbal thread.
For that I'm thankful.
I close my eyes and think of Tim, named David right there toward the end. 
I always smile when I think of him,
And now I listen
I heard a siren going by,
I wonder who and wonder why,
Was it a wreck, did someone die?
Yet still I listen.
Neighbors dogs are going wild.
Was that the laughter of a child.
Seems like I can hear for miles.
Still I listen.
I hear the hi-way roar of cars.
Tho I have never heard the stars
Is there really life on Mars?
Shhh brain please shut up and listen!
The soft night whispers in my ears.
Pressing through my random fears,
I stand amazed at what I hear.
And now I wonder.
I open up my eyes and see as I feel this winter breeze
The silhouette of leafless trees.
I stand in wonder
Then I wonder about the first man to ever be,
Or the first time he looked up to see
The Milky Way the galaxies.
Did he wonder?
I wonder what he did
How he loved how he lived.
If he ever lost a friend?
Man oh man I wonder.
Was he the first to dig a grave?
How it sounded if he prayed?
How he fought?
How he played?
If that man could see us all today,
What would he say I wonder?
In ways was he a lot like me?
Did he sometimes fear what he could not see?
Did he create unseen walls 
Of unbelief?
I stand and wonder.
Did he ever hurt the ones he loved?
Did life convince him not to trust?
I wonder.
My great grandfather lived
My DNA is shared with him.
I wonder how we are the same,
And I don't even know his name.
Still I wonder.
Will my great grand kids know my name?
Will it even matter who's to say?
Will they look up in wonder?
Will they listen?
Will they be thankful?
Not much I can leave to them
That would matter too much in the end.
I suppose the primal hope in man
Is the hope I hope lives on in them
I hope they wonder. About the universe.
I hope they listen. To life's unspoken verse.
I hope they're thankful. Even in midst of deepest hurts. 
I hope they're thankful.
I hope they listen.
I hope they wonder.
And no matter what life hands them,
I hope they hope.


Long poem by Travis Lone Hill | Details |

One Among Many part 2

I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better. 
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
 I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
 I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.


Long poem by cherl dunn | Details |

THE SACRED TOTUM

Hear the screeching of the Nighthawk, as its talons grapple
At the tail ends of the moon's rising, dragging it ever upwards, unto
The center of the blackened shroud, of the universe.
This celestial light casts illusion's rays upon the sacred totem,
Transforming wooden carvings, bringing these honored beings to life,
Wood yields unto flesh and bones desire to enter our realm of reality.
Nay the tribal medicine man, bows and grovels low unto them,
These spiritual sacred brethren of the earth and sky, chanting
In native tongue, welcoming them once more unto the land of the living.
By tooth and claw, taking winged flight, may the elemental essence,
Bless thee, and nature itself give strength to sustain thee, so does the
Tribal elder chant, on the whispering winds, that echo from the
Highest Mountains.
Even do these rock giants, seam to bow, unto these deities of the
Supernatural realm, one by one, that come forth, the great eagle to soar,
The mighty bear to guard and defend, the alone wolf to watch over
His tribal flock and the Wiley coyote with his cunning, and stealth.
Then last but not least the wisest of them all, the ancient being the owl,
Whom listens in the night, hearing all secrets, but when asked his eyes
Do so flash, answering only one word's echoing, who.
Running free amongst the living, these sacred beings reveled in
Such wonderful freedom, to feel the warmth of the earth beneath their
Paws once more, to feel the winds currents beneath their wings,
What proud creatures of the neither realm, to join again
To live once more amongst the world of men.
But at dawn's rising a maiden dressed in sacred white skins did
Appear, calling unto them to return therein, to the totem once more.
All came willingly, except for the Wiley Coyote, for a spirit
Of trickery, is he, nay did he refuse to go.
At this response she the maiden dressed in white skins, placed
Her hands in the air, and began a sacred incantation's chant,
And low did appear within her hands grasping, but a glowing dream
Catcher that seemed to burn with an ethereal fire.
Made of vaporous mists, it shimmered and hissed, as if it were
A rattle snake poised to strike, the coyote back into a thicket of wild
Sharpened thorns, daring it to try and take him.
Again she beckoned him return unto for which you came,
Back into thy sacred totem.
But the Wiley coyote would not listen, the maiden
Spoke with venomous malice, then shaking the dream
Catcher, she spoke fetch him.
Hissing, again the dream catcher, grabbed at him,
Dragging him back within the sacred totem, now thee
Shall stay always my Wiley friend, all the others may
Run free unto the next mornings dawning,
Then all was still, and silent as the sun
Rose on the distant horizon.
The maiden vanished; the people were at peace once again,
But the Wiley coyote cries from within the sacred totem, never
To be released from his wooden prison.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

The Job Interview

The HR person called me in… I was turning gray… Was he even twenty-one?
I wondered if the interview would go well, as he did fung shui the chairs around.
Offered a caramel expresso mocha late decaf, I told him I took my coffee black.
Alas my friend, it got progressively worse, this: our proverbial generational gap.

He asked me to explain, how I’d be the best personnel fit, for this illustrious job.
Ah! Experience I had in abounds, as I pulled out a 100-page resume, neatly bound.
That question, had me off and running, but I knew, I was in some trouble when…
I saw his eyes glaze over, and he ask me, ‘Have we made it into space yet?’

He smirked, when he ask, about ‘Recent’ applicable education, in the last 5 years.
I condensed my course certifications till he nearly fell off, his crazy chair, my dear!
He ask the projects worked on, unfortunately, all were government secret classified. 
So I added some of the numerous skills, that had been applied, till he almost cried.

I started with the job descriptions, but he didn’t like… that the names were so long.
And the abbreviations normally used, in this line of work, almost blew his mind.
Though I also got the feeling, he may have thought that I’d finally, lost mine, since…
My accomplishments had scads of stuff he’d never, ever, be able to comprehend...

You know, ‘things’ about the job, HR doesn’t care about or bother to be clued in.
Luckily all was saved, before the interviewers’ jaw, hit the floor around his chair.
Using a power point presentation, illustrations appeared, giving him a better clue.
I even gave him a burned DVD, set to the music of  ‘Live Free or Die Hard’, too.

He ask about items, he’d never heard of, you know, from way before he was born.
But got the feeling he’d be more attentive, talking about a computer game going on.
I didn’t lie about a thing, it’s not my fault some Companies are now closed down!
But I felt things were somewhat a success, as security finally came to lead me out…

Unfortunately, in the end, they hired a young one, and I couldn’t understand why.
He was a quiet, little, studious kid, who didn’t say a thing, but had stars in his eyes.
He didn’t understand any of the work involved, but his pay would be next to none.
But that's whom they got: until that company closed for work that couldn’t be done.

All because the HR Department didn't help them get the workers they did need.
I became self-employed, developing computer games, all the rage! Oh So Sweet!
Yes, I became a millionaire, with my own company, without HR, anywhere seen!
Now, we develop rockets to go into space, where I felt, that HR person should be.

Dedicated to all those Middle aged people stressed out after looking for a job.
Wife and Hubby Collaboration


Long poem by Verlena S. Walker | Details |

JACOB AND JACOBA

JACOB AND JACOBA
Once upon time, in a land not far, were a born prince and his baby sister. Their names given were Jacob and Jacoba. Now the tale goes that Jacob was a very insisting child. His sister Jacoba is his twin and cries all day and night. When four months of life had transgress, they had grown profoundly intelligent. Here’s the narrative!
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Jacob is a very insisting child. His sister, Jacoba, is his twin and cries all day and night. They are infants with the age of four months now. They will grow to be healthy children after a while. Yet their faith will bring their empire. The reliance will come from far away. Thus, all will deceive the family of the infants. The struggle will not be perceived as such and Jacob is as smart as a whip. If there is no way for him to find out, his commitment will be in self. Therefore, he will succeed without anyone's help. Jacoba has sensed wealth. She desires to be famous. She is very creative and loyal to her blood and therefore, she will define her empire. Nevertheless, her twin must achieve to and that is when she discovered her royal blood. It was her belief in who she would become. Now if this story goes in a twist, Jacoba's success will be similar to Jacob's. However, if this tale is told correctly, Jacob has discovered his empire directly. Nevertheless, if this is just the imagination, the enrichment of each will be shared throughout creation. Nonetheless, is not to be discussed. This will manifest before all of us. Although Jacoba is now Empress in 1600 A.D., her brother Jacob has been crowned King. The endowment was given to them through a spell cast on their parents when they were merely ten. The harmony of this was it was never remove and strangely, their origin became under their ruling. Sovereign the people said they were to Empress Jacoba in the North and East and their Ruler was King Jacob in the South and West. Their people never told them why but soon they life would change before their naked eyes. Amidst tranquility and peace, a metamorphosis happens to each. Neither knew that they had change and therefore, they bond did not remain. Resemblance they kept yet, neither saw this and discord becomes present with each. A war would transpire and unity will become more desired. Would concord end the war and if so, would Jacob and Jacoba remember they are sister and brother? The aphorism to these twins' lives is that family is always a cease-fire! Amity ______________________________________________________________| Verlena S. Walker ©November 01, 2013


Long Poems