Best Long Standing Poems
In the realm of battles waged by fate,
Where heroes rise and villains bait,
There dwells a force, unconquerable, vast,
A nemesis, whose shadow is cast.
With nefarious intent, it seeks to harm,
An archenemy, a symbol of alarm.
It weaves its web of darkness deep,
Inflicting punishment vengefully does creep.
No hero can escape its relentless grip.
It thrives on conflicts, which none can skip.
A generic motivation, it lacks,
Driven only by the thrill of attacks
Its hubris knows no bounds; it knows no shame.
It believes it is beyond any blame.
But in the realm of battles, there lies a truth
Hubris and nemesis are intertwined, as wisdom and youth.
The nemesis, with its cunning ways,
Lures hubris into a treacherous maze.
It tempts the ego, fuels the fire,
Until the hubris burns, consumed by desire,
In the face of adversity, heroes must stand tall.
To face the nemesis and conquer it all.
But beware oh brave ones, of the hubris within.
For it blinds the wise, leading to their own sin.
In the realm of battles waged by fate,
Where heroes rise and villains bait,
There dwells a force, unconquerable, vast,
A nemesis, whose shadow is cast.
With nefarious intent, it seeks to harm,
An archenemy, a symbol of alarm.
But through perseverance and strength of will,
The heroes rise, and versus all odds, they fulfill
They learn from the past, the mistakes they've made,
And with newfound wisdom, they start to evade.
Word Bank
1/ Hubris: Excessive pride, presumption, or arrogance
Grandiose belief in one's personal ability, privilege, or infallibility
2/ Nemesis: A long-standing rival, downfall, or ruination of someone or something
So thick with rain,the rancid air
into the jungle pours.
Young soldiers with their feet on fire
keep on despite the sores.
This war is one that no one wants
and no one understands.
Young men and women give their lives
in these far Asian lands.
Back home these kids are shown disdain;
they're spit upon and worse.
When they come home from Viet Nam
in airports they are cursed.
A blight upon our history
was this long standing war.
But we should show the vets respect
for suffering they bore.
written by Deb Wilson
January 12th, 2013
for contest "Historical Modified Quatrain"
‘Anger is one letter short of danger.’
Excess of it, our life can endanger.
Anger when grown into aggression and violence,
Works in vicious ways and is a great malaise
It fosters hatred and ruptures many hearts,
Angry words can wound and pierce like darts.
But Anger becomes a sublime emotion,
If we know how to handle it without explosion.
It becomes sometimes so constructive,
Quashing the fallacy that anger at all costs is disruptive.
Many a time it has proved so positive.
And sometimes it turns very productive.
When anger is turned against situations
And not against people aiming at their degradation.
It enables us to rectify the discrepancies,
Through our resentment to change the disparities.
It fuels us with the energy to voice against injustice.
Bringing solutions to the voiceless in their crisis.
But never let anger consume your heart and soul.
It sure will take a mighty toll.
When anger bubbles and boils, catch the cue.
Wait a minute before the fire devours you.
As humans, we are likely to lose our temper.
But remember, to it, never surrender!
Holding a long-standing. grudge,
Is like having an unerasable smudge.
It will always leave a stain,
And lead us to irrepressible pain.
However, it is not advisable to suppress anger,
It can lead to irreparable danger.
But remember, when emotions of hatred are let loose,
There is hardly any chance for a truce.
A person under violent rage
Is like a prisoner in a cage.
Anger, more often is a negative emotion.
Landing us in violent commotion.
Anger against people steals all our energy,
But when it aims at solutions, it enhances synergy.
When angry, forgetting all decorum, one may shout.
Don’t let your resentment thoughtlessly blurt out.
Never let the tongue make a tempestuous tirade.
Tackle this tiny tab of tissue and tame its blade!
Between the lines of Poetry Soup
Lies partly hidden the real scoop
Poets with emotion’s overflow
Spillage of which, they do not know
Leaks between lines of what they write
Discerning souls, bring them to light
Fellow poets with the same disease
Wanting to love, wanting to please
Can read between the lines so fair
And see love affairs recorded there
And secrets longings all scream out
Though unstated, there is no doubt
Which poet is in love with whom
Which affair is destined to bloom
Clear to read Love’s Richter scale
The in between codes, never fail
Poems present and poems past
Love or friendship, which will last?
Terms of endearment, every one
Is a love song that can not be sung
Between the lines, you can’t deny
Is where love affairs are flying high
For we are poets one and all
Programmed, it seems, in love to fall…
With people whose words do ignite
Who caress the soul with sheer delight
Chorus:
Between the lines
Between the lines
The love is there
Between the lines
The long standing and hidden pain
The hints of a love gone insane
Between the lines
Between the lines
YOUR love is there
Between the lines.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I heard women have ruined the workplace,
By showing what it means to lead with grace.
We still make far less money than men,
Yet have more sway with the sword and pen.
We ruined the meetings, made them an email,
We worked together to succeed, not fail.
Held men accountable for their actions,
Came here to work, not to be distractions.
We ruined inappropriate chatter,
Modeled respect - the heart of the matter.
We led with patience and confidence,
Showed that true leaders use evidence.
We ruined the workplace to include us.
Now when men react, they cannot make a fuss.
They have to treat us like we’re humans too -
The horror, the shock, the rumors were true.
We ruined the long-standing lack of empathy,
Replaced it with compassion and transparency.
We listened and mentored, made people feel heard,
A shift in the mindset - and progress occurred.
We ruined the toxic culture which isn’t fair,
Moving the needle for redemption and repair.
Call it destruction or a needed rebirth,
We ruined the workplace by knowing our worth.
THE MATRIARCH
(In Memory of Eva Vescovi Dixon 1910-2010)
by Tina (Vescovi) Lasley
She was a Sister, Mother, Aunt and Friend
Someone on whom you could always depend
She was Counselor, Advisor, and Mentor to all
There to pick us up if we should fall
She was persistent, tenacious and so strong willed
Not one to be stopped or one to be stilled
She was ahead of her time in so many ways
Working on war planes in her early days
Owning a restaurant and a Florist too
When it was an uncommon thing for Women to do
Arranging flowers each and every day
Making sprays and bouquets to earn her way
Raising two Sons all on her own
Without self help books and how to be shown
Working long hours, six days a week
No time for vacations or much rest to seek
She made time for us all, to sit and chat
Telling stories from the past about this and that
She remembered all the names in the photo book
When we would ask as we took a look
Her homemade ravioli’s were the best around
Her sweet potato pie could always be found
Family recipes passed one to another
Learned from the great Italian Mother
She kept regular hair appointments, clear to the end
Her “Beauty Operator”, more Family than Friend
She was loved by her neighbors and all that she knew
Long standing friendships through the years that grew
Each year, her garden she’d tend
Sharing her bounty with Family and Friend
There wasn’t a plant she couldn’t revive
Even when you thought it would never survive
She tried to retire at age 75
But missed being around people and feeling alive
Back to work she went for 17 more years
Working part time at a Florist that happened to be near
She retired a 2nd time at age 92
Finding ways to keep busy with things to do
She befriended two robins that followed her around
Moving from window to window, until she could be found
Grandmother, Great Grandmother, to such a big brood
Her hugs and kisses sure to lift your mood
She will always be remembered at the door waving goodbye
Trying hard to smile with a tear in her eye
She saw so much in her 100 years
Even outlived all of her peers
But the good Lord said, “Eva, it’s time to go”
Heaven is waiting on you to show.
THE BIG BOSSES OF CORRUPTION
Heads held high, moods lowered with intend
They parade the highly peopled pathways
As they gather recognition and fake trust
Towards their deep well of luxury
How they got up there
A mystery down here
Why they hang on that long
As if it’s where they belong
Their offices, turned hiding places
From the masses they swore to serve
Their utterances, electrified into hot blazes
A privilege they do not deserve
They would sit in their spacey scary offices
Pinned on their revolving chairs
Calculating huge sums in tiny figures
Nodding and shaking their heavily loaded heads
Outgoing calls are in their hundreds
All in questionable directions
Hours and hours of budgeted time
Reduced to mere hello’s and bye-byes
They would lion their faces
When the masses call for audience
They would then iron them back into places
Having defeated the masses with nine carat promises
They would finally gather in their strongest elite
After hours for a collective toast
Tribute to their long standing drive
A day has just passed that deserves a boast
By: Ihanovandu
Please fall in lust with me, remember years
when all you sought was time to ravish me
In secret tryst we’d meet despite our fears
For passion would not wait or let us be
Oh fall in lust with me, think of the days
When wonder filled your eyes at curve of hips
A time when whispered words spoke of the ways
That we’d make love as kisses burned our lips
Please fall in lust with me, oh let me burn
From touch of hands deranged in passion’s fire
Oh let me pant your name, oh let me yearn
For time when slave you were to your desire
Now, fall in lust with me, and only me
Forget the other one whom you adore
You pledged that love would ever constant be
a passion that would blaze forevermore
So fall in lust with me, and let me be
The mistress once again who rules supreme
For love devoid of lust is killing me
Bring back to bed the lust of youthful dream
Jade Celeste
This poem is the cry of many people in long standing relationships. That first fire and passion needs stoking to be keep blazing brightly. When the fire isn't tended to, there is danger in looking elsewhere to find what is lacking.
'But you don't look sick'
"What you doing just lying there?
I'm sure it would help if you begged in more prayer"
"Have you not yet tried this special snake oil?"
I've said there's no cure, my blood starts to boil
"But you look just fine" I guess I must refrain
From boring you with woes of my pain
Well I'm bored of hearing "you don't look sick"
You don't look stupid I think
Yet you must be thick
"You're far too young to be in such pain"
Oh really? Then to broken body explain.
"Get well soon" I know you're trying to be kind
But that ain't gonna happen
If Google 'chronic' you'll find;
'Persistent, long-standing, long term'
"I'm trying" I smile instead of making you squirm
"I'm sure you can't really need that chair"
"How can it be that hard just to blow dry damp hair?"
When walking in pain don't dare use a stick
"Just exercise more you can't be that sick"
"Just try this new potion"
"It's all in your head"
"My cousin used lotion"
"Instead of lazing in bed"
"You must be depressed, you're anxious a lot"
Yeah coz being told all is well
One might lose the plot
"I don't care what you say it must just be the worry"
Oh yes coz my body would heal
If I just told it I'm sorry
Why is it because you've not heard of my plight
That you think it's essential I put up a fight?
It's real and it's chronic and arrived via genes
Not because I haven't yet fulfilled all my dreams
Believe me I wish I could come out tonight
And if winning disease was through putting up fight
I'd have won it by now i'd be so much better
But it's in black and white on many a consultants letter
'But you don't look sick' -
Victoria Payne February 2016
One of my personal favourites :)
Contemplating atop the “Great Wall,” was Neruda comparing similarities of this and “Machu
Picchu?” Was there more commonality beyond stonemasons craft? High stone walls ancient
cities, “great walls,” lesser ones (Berlin) are designated barriers between peoples/ideologies
for protection. Long standing cultural isolation results.
Constructing a fence of wood at Isla Negra afforded symbolic protection. Wooden slats
allowed words over and through pickets to the world beyond. If “Machu Picchu” was “a trip to
the serenity of the soul,” fences and “great walls” lie on opposite sides of that.
Neruda’s prolific poetry rose above politics unencumbered by walls, fences or dogma.
for contest on Pablo Neruda
The Athlete’s Denial
By Elton Camp
Bulging biceps and great power
Made Jock the man of the hour
As a model of good sportsmanship,
Recognition sent him on an ego trip
Long-standing records broke right & left
Made easier by his impressive heft
But meddlers wouldn’t let it be
“This looks very suspicious to me”
Accusers arose to testify he did it
In fear, they conspired and hid it
At least that is what they all say
Jock claims it wasn’t that way
“Why such drugs I’d never use.
It’s to be liars those guys choose.
Jealousy since I’m better than they
Now the league won’t let me play.”
“If an asterisk is put by my name
My records won’t seem the same.”
The truth of the matter I don’t know
But find it rather disturbing, though
Dangling in between my legs was my stoned tail
Making every effort to peep out of the zip
Just appreciate the the glory of God displaying wonders right in its presence in our solitude.
Salivating was my mouth
As my lips and tongues will not stop hitting each other, all calling for a taste of their tantalizing counterparts
And just like magic
God of make way intervened,
Like a dream come true
The tantalizing object came closer right there in our solitude
Without no further argument, we both were in our birthday suit
Revealing unto each other the hidden treasures of the most high
The sight of her curves and edges gave a tremendous satisfaction to my tail
While it stood straight in its massiveness and hugeness honouring the presence of its doom
On her knees she went
Like a chorister holding microphone
She held my thirsty tail
In no minute, a remix of Hallelujah Chorus was being sang
This time, with no clear notes but sounds
With my vocal cord adding violin effect to the sound
In a blink of an eye,
We were both drenched in her soft saliva
Running down like an erosion.
With no further hesitation, her curves were in my palms
Causing a friction between her succulence and softness and my long standing hardness
In and out it moved
With every entrance appeared different effect
With some came high pitch
While some, low pitch
And suddenly I was woken up by my cold warm underwear
Then it became obvious I have been dreaming!
Oh what a fantasy!
©ABSOL
Red, White and Blue
I fought in the Revolutionary war
To win freedom from tyranny
I fought for the right to choose my religion
For the right to live free!
No taxation without representation
Was our battle cry!
Fought to uphold the system of slavery.
We would live free or die!
I joined the rebel army
To fight the Yankee way
We sang about ole’ Dixie
And walking with Jesus on judgment day
I must of killed me a hundred or more
Of those Union fools
While Sherman burned down our country
Homes, hospitals and schools.
I fought in the war against Mexico
Fought in Korea, and World War One
We raped, pillaged and plundered
And would not stop until we were done!
I was flying over Japan
As we dropped Enola Gay
Three days later, we let Little Boy fly,
Wishing the innocents to have a nice day.
I walked the Ho Chi Minh trail
Set flame to many straw huts
Killed, raped, a whole lot of gooks
And those traitors back home, said I was nuts!
911 shook us to our core
So we attacked Afghanistan
But getting rid of Saadam and bombing Iraq
Was part of our long-standing genocidal plan.
Shock and Awe, a day that will live in infamy,
Is the name that we gave,
To the barbarous saturation bombing
That laid countless Iraqis in their grave
The fighting continues, war goes on
It’s big business, lots of money
More young men and women, to feed the machine
Have the last laugh, because it isn’t really funny.
Now I am wedded to this chair,
Having lost both legs, sad but true!
I sit straight and erect, as I salute
The red, white and blue!
A living thing she was...she graced our land...
three hundred years and more, she stood with pride.
A focal point to meet with friends, we'd stand
or drive the intersected roads beside
the wall that sheltered this, our blessed tree
we thought long-standing for eternity.
The 'Heart of Balmville', certainly was she...
so many grew up in her view's embrace
and took for granted that this vision be
forever etched within this Balmville space.
Inside the small historic park, she stood
preserved for years in her dear ancient wood.
Her statuesque magnificence now gone...
our hearts are saddened, missing her great limbs.
But with her stump, might memories hold on
as the sight of her leaves and branches dims.
The 'Heart of Balmville' lives within each heart...
Dear Balmville Tree, sweet homage we impart.
Long standing passions fading into obsessions deep and dark
Taking its tolls to possess your soul they leave their mark
After much strife little things appear bigger than life
And life fades without a fight
When confronted with obsessions deep and dark
The rains come clean and pure
To cleanse the passions and soothe the soul
Till nothing remains to heal the marks
Of bewitching obsessions possessive and dark
One step wrong and all is lost
Gone are the sunny days of memories past
Your soul is mine so don’t look for me
For I am gone into obsessions dreary and dark
But be aware I am not the only one
All are equal and all are prey
Hidden behind that ray of sun obsessions remain
When all else is done the darkness comes unbidden
Then you are the only one left with obsessions hidden