Long Usa Poems. These are the most popular long Usa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Usa poems by poem length and keyword.
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(after Edgar Allan Poe's "The Angel of the Odd")
It was a tidy day and I sat, replete, under vellux blankets.
Sadly, my tea was weak, the bottle of cinnamon whiskey
tantalizingly low, and my feet swelling above my anklets.
So I was snippy one might say, zippy, flipping with zee...
from one screen to the next, oops, forgot! Poor Usain Bolt!
Yes, I took it out upon him. Dressed him first in bouncy hearts
cruel, I admit, and then purposefully fried him, let him float,
banged him, tripped him, let the sloth dine, and let out a fart.
Crude, I admit. Let's blame it on the tea, shall we? "I say not."
I sat up. Who had spoken to little old me, an old lady too weak
for any great villian with a booming voice. I blew out my snot,
found my glasses and good grief! The speaker made of teak.
Pseudo teak, my stereo a bit old. But leaning against the wall
fruity-kins wearing leotards when he should not, the belly
like a spiked watermelon. I admit I considered a sip at neck gall
but got turned off by papaya thighs, arms turned banana jelly.
Who are you, I squeaked, smushing low to hide like a flea.
"Zolar, the Inet God. Say, I wonder, are you a high roller?"
No, no, said I. No bingo, no slots, no high stake poker, just see...
"See? I see far too well. You let my buddy Usain go polar."
Tee hee. Just, um, fun and games. How about a nice slushy?
Yes, I admit it. With such as he, I couldn't help but imagine
giving a blender whirr, a smash and splash, sort of plushy.
With glee whee, off went vellux and I set to the kitchen.
The rum was old and watery, the vodka scummy at collar
and all went crash. Imagine the horror if you will, foot rot
in my fine spirits? My hoover sucked it without bother
and when I examined residue, found crumbs, hairs and a dot
of mushy raisins. So I googled on my phone with askance
how purify spirits? Zolar suggested kindly, "Try a colander."
A genius of the mash, a nonpariel of the objective chance.
My mind turned to such grater things I made my first blunder.
Who'd believe a fresh market reject could move with alacrity
I swung a hammer, missed his head, slipped on the slick floor.
The recoil hit my head, and I bled red vintage, singing a ditty,
Oh me, oh my. I'm gonna cry, while Zolar went out the door.
Not leaving my just desserts to chance, I slipped and slithered
rubbed my foot rot, and hopped after him, butcher knife in hand.
A beep from my iPhone and away he dodged, while I dithered
leading me, up, up and out to where it rained to beat the band.
It hit me then, just get close enough to hug Zolar, then push
he must have read my mind because he darted and I flew
head over heels, but thankfully over a branch like a lush
who did okay on the acrobatic bars, hair tangling in dew
covered maple leaves and my dismount worthy of a ten.
I mucked toward my door, my bare feet covered with mud
I opened the door, except it was locked, no window open.
I checked my pockets, found a lighter, snapped, a dud.
No phone, can you imagine? Even Usain Bolt wouldn't recover
such blasphemy as rain, muck, and maniac fruit without zen.
I now had an axe to grind and a green house to uncover.
My thirst now absurd, my mind stuck on might have been
I raged, thrashed through cabinets, seeking a bottle once stored
and found it. Amen. I uncapped it, took a deep swallow
Hot. Hot, hot! Immediately I upchucked, help me I implored
to the God of the Inet, Oh Zolar, call 911, don't let me wallow
It's cold, wet, dark and mucky, and here I'm all upchucky
I pounded on doors, they'd open, snap a flash then close
oh, woe, woe. I clutched my head, my throat, I'm ever so unlucky
to wish to slip into slushy and end up posted before repose.
A siren in the night grew and grew, then flashed beside me
a voice said, "Ma'am? Can you hold it right there, put your hands
overhead?" Sure, but bladder being bad I couldn't stop my wee wee
from dribbling down my leg, then my feet slipped unplanned.
That's how the news pictured me, along with neighborhood
postings, feet all asply, a phew of urine and of whiskey,
my hair filled with leaves, eyes black and blue, and would
you believe it? My hand rests on watermelon, me unable to flee.
I never go near the iNet, never search out or bash Usain Bolt.
The night of Zolar in mind, I even gave up cinnamon whiskey.
Because a fruit in hand is better than an axe to grind or a volt
from lightning, with tush grounded and no vellux to cover me.
She Wrote To Me
My secret lover I left you 5 years ago I could not take it anymore I had
to fill my emptiness without you since I left I would cut out my heart
every night & in the morning its full again.
I got married to a rich noble politician thinking I can forget you I made
myself well known here in London as a musician playing the piano in
my own theater every night.
The theater was full the sound of my piano was known to everybody
living all over London due to my husbands political involvement in the
area for many years the whole theater would be booked.
My entrance was always approached with loud voices cheering till I give
the sign of performing .That specific night i was in a very determined
mood to involve my audience listen to the sound of my piano around
and everywhere the lights were on me already but no sign to begin
waiting for another noble to make his entry in the front row.
I was wearing that long dress in black and white strapless the one I had
worn on our first date doing my best to belong to my audience tonight
while craving to catch a glimpse of your existence live standing opposite
me the way we were your place was empty but not in my heart.
The audience were standing up clapping waiting impatiently to listen to
what they had already known music from the tip of my fingers will allow a pause through their breathing.
The lights dimmed no introduction was needed I was going to play an old
tune from the 80`s called Feelings remember when we danced to that tune I am dedicating this musical evening to you my love my first lover before we were obliged to be separated due to family upbringing.
That same evening tragedy stole my expectations of living a love to
perform an absolute change of a physical identity a living spirit awaiting
to be executed when suddenly I collapsed unconscious on stage my fingers
were numb my blood betrayed my heart.
It was a heart attack paralyzing me on the left side cure or no cure
is still unknown that had left me scarred when witnessing my dreams
shatter in disrepair.
I have been forced retirement at a prime age left with no choice
hide behind the shadows of the twilight abdicate my thrown
to an unknown.
Escape was a forgotten word before this chute as an invalid carcass today
my escape to the cottage was essential maybe a celestial miracle would prevail.
The cottage by the deep sea will become my quarantine from what was an enlighten world to a world of darkness, my retirement was a runaway from
the mockery of mankind who might disperse my dissipated soul.
My shutters are unclosed as their usage was worthless brightness
obscurity made no difference to me in that room.
The ocean view struck me by its calmness, huge waves were
not prepared to release their passion and splash on the shore to bring
forth their own melody.
I went for a walk walking like in a dream a dream with no feelings of body
and soul the moon provided me to detect another lonely shadow of a stranger yet this time it was the shadow of a lost fish wavering on the sand nearly lifeless, our eyes met needed to be rescued I said to myself even not feeling my withered hand I bent down kindly carried it and threw it back to life what a wonderful sensation. You will do that to me my darling, I will wait.
My decision to escape to the un inhibited cottage was a knowledgeable
step as only seclusion and spiritual wounds would heal to prompt a new attitude that will lessen my sorrow inspire my moral to long for
a tomorrow differing than a yesterday.
Stand by me today, my awakening will hoist a sparkling light of recovery
during this long coming journey. Intentionally I am your free woman.
Here I will sleep now until destiny will allow both of us to cure and leave our fears behind with our past, together venture back to where we belong.
I loved you and still love you. Me!
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I painstakingly take down reading list.
(I thought that our dear teacher surely gist.)
“Of Bison Men”, antiquity : out o’ print;
and “Batcher in the Fry”, a concrete stint.
“Odious Night in Gail”, seen fit to ban –
Perhaps by an old “RAD at Sky March” fan.
And “Cellphone flowers of yellow and green”,
From “Loose'y in the Sky with Diamonds”, seen.
“You Lie, Sees” on top of list of sorcerers –
Our Homers being the main baseball scorers.
“Vinnie, VD, Vichy~”: Dude ate too much
I do not understand the rash and rush…
A cross all incontinence, without much flare,
there grammar mistakes is to much too bare.
1. Bison: Prehistoric animal, now extinct. Also, Bison Men Street Fighter = movie;
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
2. The Catcher in the Rye is a 1951 novel by J. D. Salinger
3. Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats
4. Radetsky March by Johann Strauss Sr.
5. RAD – abbreviation of many interpretations; also, slang for “great”
6. The actual line from “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” is: “Cellophane… “
7. "Loose'y" is slang for cigarettes sold singularly
8. Ulysses is derived from Ulixes, the Latin name for Odysseus, a character in ancient Greek literature. Odysseus also known by the Roman name Ulysses was a legendary Greek king of Ithaca and a hero of the blind poet, Homer's epic poem, the Odyssey.
9. Julius Caesar said this when described how/what he did on his campaign. (veni (I came), vidi (I saw), vici (I conquered). Colloquially used by teenagers as an expression for conquests of the opposite sex. "Vichy" as in vichysoisse, a cold potato soup
10. In the final couplet I vent my frustration with the incorrect usage and spelling which I often encounter in script; spelling and grammar which change the intended meaning of the text.
11. Written in: A quatorzain (from French quatorze, fourteen) is a poem of fourteen lines. Historically the term has often been used interchangeably with the term 'sonnet'. Various writers have tried to draw distinctions between 'true' sonnets, and quatorzains. Nowadays the term is seldom used, and when it is, it usually is used to distinguish fourteen line poems that do not follow the various rules that describe the sonnet. I followed the Shakespeare sonnet style with the volta at the COUPLET:"In Shakespeare's sonnets, however, the volta usually comes in the couplet, and usually summarizes the theme of the poem or introduces a fresh new look at the theme." ~ Wikipedia
6 July 2013
Sponsor Roy Jerden
Contest Name Malapropisms and Mondegreens
The plane takes off before three o' clock
from La Guardia Airport, but in a few minutes,
it is suddenly struck by a flock of geese killing both engines;
and the undaunted pilot with his forty years of flight,
has to make an emergency landing on water,
and he's telling the passengers to hold on tight...
while getting his strength together, and with will and power,
he lands the Airbus A320, in the Hudson River, flat!
Many who have seen this incredible landing,
believe this is a miracle unfolding before their eyes;
and how quick the emergencies rescue teams rush
to the airplane sinking in the frigid waters;
and in a flash of a minute many more ferry boats
come to help while the sirens are loudly waling!
On the wing through the back emergency door,
every single passenger gets out safely....telling each other to be calm,
because they believe that angels are guiding them;
and is one of the angels tapping the fearless spirit
of this kind , selfless and courageous pilot:
putting their safety first, instead of his well-being?
More heroes like him are needed by us:
when most folks seem uncaring and cold,
and he has acted with a humanity that's really indescribable
and a boldness that only God endows someone with;
he has confronted danger relying on his amazing skills...
and knowing for certain that his swift thinking
would be so daringly successful!
" Thank you ", I hear everyone whisper
as they are given hot coffee and a warm blanket;
" Thank you", they're sweetly saying
in a prayer expressing their gratitude...
for the bravest man who has saved them from hell!
That is his glorious and incomparable moment:
a heroism not read in books or seen in movies,
and this is no fiction, but plan and blunt reality!
Read the joyful gratefulness in the passengers faces,
happy to be alive, because of the action of one who has cared;
see how ordinary people become legends...
when they take tremendous risks that some wouldn't;
realize how their perception is sharper and deeper that many,
and when they act...surely another miracle is bound to happen!
And like the caring New Yorkers, who have witnessed it
on this January the fifteen...you, too, can:
when someone gives all he's got,
to save hundreds of lives that were almost gone;
and will he accept a medal for his bravery?
Heroic pilot, who can ever forget what you have done today?
God remembers the good men who look up to Heaven and pray!
My poem is dedicated to Captain Chesley Sullenberger
of USA Airlines-Flight 1549
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Every four years they come a courting us, wearing their fine woven suits with their Ivy
League education, some are even lawyers or so called successful business men…they claim
they have the answers to our problems…their mouths are full of words of encouragement
and their brains high off their own egos of what's right or wrong. Once they do get elected to
the highest office in the nation, they hire the brightest minds in our country to help them
solve the very same problems that they claimed to have had a solution for when they wanted
your vote during the election. I’m not a politician just a mere poet and a humble
Christian at best… just taking a look at our situation from a layman’s perspective…at those
we elect to fix our problems and frustrations.
They all have visions of solving all our social woes and frustrations, these same types of
politicians have had hundreds of years to right their past wrongs. But, instead once elected
they turn a blind eye to the greedy corporate spending and banks who own most of the
country and yet they claim to be broke… some of their CEO’s live better than whole nations,
but those same politicians we elected rewarded them for failure with millions of taxes payer’s
dollars in secrete exchanges for political favors. Strange once they get elected, they pretend
that now they no longer see those drug dealing nations or the very same puppet
governments that their predecessors helped to put into place.
They claim that they know nothing about those crooked car companies who sell cars here in
the USA for 300 times more than what other countries pay for those same pieces of junk! As
if that were not enough, those same politicians gives out our hard earn tax money for cash
for clunkers to all these rip off car dealerships who then split the ill gotten profits with those
same crooked car companies and banks who put us in this slump, with their poorly produced
products and the banks with their over inflated interest rates they give to us.
They no longer see how the very same oil companies that we made rich now raise oil price
for oil we already have here in the USA. They try to correct other countries on civil rights
violations and equality for women, when we ourselves still live in the dark age in some place
right here in the good old USA…So, I say to you my fellow man not as a poet or a Christian,
but just as a layman looking in… if a politician is the answer to our problems? Then who has
been running this country for the last hundred or so years?
The Sioux chief Brown Eagle taught me self-respect
And I saw my life as an Englishman must have greater purpose,
And that these "savages" were actually my saviors.
The spirit of his tribe drew me; to resist was useless.
The closest spirit was Brown Eagle’s sister :
But Bright Water could marry only a warrior-chief :
To prove worthy to marry into the tribe, and to lead it,
I had to endure long tests and trials of grief.
I studied the ways of Brown Eagle,
Whose many scars were openly displayed,
Showing his warrior-status, as well as reminding all
Of the torture ritual in the tribe and the respect to be paid.
The tribe medicine-man explained what should happen:
I had to undergo a series of ritual tortures and tribulation,
Including an O-Kee-Pa style chest-suspension ceremony,
And its most grueling part, the Sun Vow Initiation.
I was hauled up to the roof of a huge tepee
By buffalo-bone hooks through my pectoral muscles, flowing red:
Excruciating exquisite pain - as my former life was torn out of my chest:
My spirit ascended to the roof and I saw my own body dead.
In a sincere desire to become one with the tribe my spirit left
The tepee on a shamanic journey into another order of realization,
A landscape of magic and mystery - and during this ordeal
Manitou came to me in the form of the White Buffalo - a sacred vision:
Hooves pounding, eyes flaring, He emerged from a vast prairie fire.
And of leadership, duty and responsibility I heard Him speak:
And His huge presence ran with my horse and guided me over the endless
Short-grass plains to Bright Water’s flowing creek.
Attention and energy of my small self was removed from its centre;
The world around expanded correspondingly, enhancing
A changing, fluid, magical, and mysterious realm of the unknown.
Deep-etched imagery, a dream of death-and-life entrancing.
My emotional state transcended any normal boundaries
In sacred time and space - because of the ritual, the ceremony,
The privation, the torture, the longing for communion.
I drank from the flowing creek and returned to the tepee.
Helpless, I was cut down from the tepee roof, rejoined
To the world of flesh and bone; but my fire-baptised
Spirit had new authentic power, and Brown Eagle took my arm:
What is your name, brother? I proudly took the name - Buffalo Eyes.
From the culture of the High Plains Sioux in the USA
Inspired by the movie A MAN CALLED HORSE (1970) starring Richard Harris.
Sitting on this gray wooden bench beside my late mother
Her light yellow blouse shiffling in the Atlantic air
She is exicited, anxious, happy and swells with a sense of achievement
For she had done it. She had found her relatives found her long lost Duke and hope.
We looked out together from Rosses point at the horizon and America
My much younger brothers played soccer on the beach below these rocks
They were not much more than tousered specs but proud we were
Proud in a motherly and brotherly way of them.
Mother would never say stay and work when you do arrive in Maine
But was tough enough to let me go. Just like her own mother would have been.
Her love would always be dousted strongly with conditions of boastfulness
at all her children's achievements
I would well consider staying in America should the opportnity arise
The airforce base nearby sweltered for me in the 6am Maine air.
I jogged alone by maincured lawns of Duke's neighbourhood, Could I fit in.
A prison warden he took me to gaol to collect a pay check and to dish out irish fags
I jogged again and asked do I really want to live and work in this land
My routes are strong. I would miss my young brothers and not even know them.
Boston had style but screamed at me too.
My mother's first cousin was a hollywood dream, a chiselled Kirk or Burt.
With him a wily wife of Italian extraction and a tarot card reader extraordinare.
Her prediction :
A job and marriage and an apartment will come to you on this three week trip!
Written on a piece of paper I promised not to read this until the last day.
One night we dined out and awaited Duke's friend and attractive girlfriend.
We chatted. I realised I was the son they really had wanted between them
The girlfriend declared that she would be prepared to marry a stranger
A stranger for a fee. How desperate might I be!
A stranger who may want to get to stay in the USA full-time. Legally.
A job at the drive in bank. A job through a friend of Duke's. You can stay with us.
You can stay in New Hampshire at our letting house. Why not. Why not ?
I opened my wallet on the plane. And read. "Negative response to the above".
I had said yes or no to no one but I could see my mother's disappointed eyes.
But no she was grand because, still excited, she had not given up.
In her hand we knew. If a letter arrived from the American embassy in Dublin that
I had won a Morrison visa. A lottery draw to balance world numbers to the US. !
I’d sit and say “son, it’s just you and me now kid
So if you enlist do you know what you will be warring for
HITLER tried to claim other’s land and sea
And that was the same thing we are doing now to set strangers free
But perhaps they prefer to live the way they do now
“NO,” says the USA you can be happier and we will show you how
While we’re in a triad of countries doing the same damned thing repeatedly
Son, as far as I can see we’re in COMBAT for other’s tyranny
Your uniforms will be ragged and each BOMB will remind you what you’ll be coming home for
When blessedly you’ll come BACK knocking on my DOOR
Your only shelter is in a curling nightmare
And can you, my son, shoot a STRANGER and believe it’s fair?
Without thinking about the lead that's flying toward the sorrow of a family
Still I have a right to believe this war is fought unjustifiably
And it’s all one big lie from WAYWRD men looking for a manger
While soaked in a deep DEPRESSION of danger
With blood SPILLING on the ground where WE should never be
And how much the cost to protect others from tyranny
A price that bleeds, a price that CRIES, a price too high for me
An inch can mean the difference between life and breathing no more
And the AK7 is just another soldier’s deadly whore
There will be deserters, heroes, but my loving son
What will we have really WON?
Just another cultures property that is not ours to claim
I hear many are turning to addicts to ease the breathlessness of battle and that’s not where
I place the blame
I blame the men who cannot rationalize what should be decided over BEEF-JERKEY and
And Son, must I remind you the percentage who die
And personally I’d like to see my only son grow to sprout and out to shed his youth and
become a MAN of ways and means
But that which you have in mind are a different set of scenes
So if your heart and head say this is something you should do
then I’ll cry, miss you and be FRIGHTENED until it’s once again me and you
If you listen to the pundits they’ll tell you war will never cease
And WHEN you return will it be in one piece?
The DAWN of my days as a father who rules has long since PAST
So here is your CRUCIFIX and here is your good LUCK charm
And keep in mind how easy it is to lose a leg or an arm
This war is akin to one large auction and the amount of lives become the bid
So think about this son, if you go, it will NO longer be just you and me ...KID!
on youtube i am troynelson2011 the ocd riddle for world peace,
i cant check my email,
twitter wont let me tweet,
facebook wont let me post,
and soundcloud definately owes me an appology...
. imagine a group of people in my allies back yard pretending to be somebody they aren't.
imagine that group of people hiding in my allies midst was perpetrating war crimes in other parts of the world.
lets say hypothetically speaking this group of people hiding among my allie was holding their children hostage on television and force feeding children to be medicinal guinea pigs so their kids wouldnt have to...
now imagine this group of people hiding in my allies midst perpetrating war crimes in other countries was funded by the global prodigal youth via living out their dreams and ambitions before they could cause they had the means to do so first.. so this group of inventors all with one invention under their belt using my friends kids as guineau pigs funded by my other friends childrens dreams.....
What do you think happens when a terrorist organisation hiding in your allies midst (few disguised as many) perpetrating war crimes accumulates a debt to owe the prodigal youth sky scrapers...
a global terrorist in usa is perpetrating war crimes using your kids as medicinal guineau pigs. setting up shop in canada where is rumored homeless began taking refuge in the sewer
in short america, you are going to be introduced to the global prodigal youth, terrorists hiding in your country owe sky scrapers to.when does armstrongs sperm mature anyway?
they hold children hostage on television, they use your kids as guinea pigs,
you have just been volunteered to assist me in murdering my enemy, the one that owes me everything they ever put in their mouth
wouldnt you feel responsible to find out every time you opened your mouth it became a tv show, game show, movie, or product on your store shelves, was being used to fund global terrorism.
tsix step process of your enemy.vs ur 4 step process to realise ur allie
you have MY enemy surrounded, word of mouth is powerful
after you read this phone your mother and tell her you recieved an email from the future king of england explaining your global problems...
twiiter, facebook, soundcloud, are stolen ideas
isnt it ironic bill gates is our worlds most famous inventor with only one invention... and shows absolutely no pridefor his own baby he worked on for years after work
indoor fish farming will end world hunger btw