Long 35 Poems
Long 35 Poems. Below are the most popular long 35 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 35 poems by poem length and keyword.
Thank You President Trump
Leadership by President Trump
(And then some)
Put America at the forefront
In combating the Coronavirus
With decisive response and measures
To ensure the safety of the American people.
Though some feel as if guinea pigs
And question whether over reaction
It had to be done
To prevent the spread
Of the viral toxin.
Resuscitating the old
With infusion of new
To revive an antiquated system
In germ warfare infection.
America will come out the better
A global leader
In preparedness and first respondence
To combat future pandemics
Man-made or natural
With preemptive action.
Give credit
Where credit is due;
The calamity contained
And disaster thwarted.
***
Note:
The Coronavirus (Covid-19) is an infectious flu like disease. It spreads through contact with an infected person when they cough or sneeze, or when a person touches a surface or object that has the virus on it, and then they touch their eyes, nose, or mouth.
The outbreak began in Wuhan China, surfacing in a seafood and poultry market in late 2019. The first confirmed case in the United States was in the state of Washington, January 20, 2020, involving a 35-year-old man who had travelled to Wuhan, China and returned. The first recorded death in the U.S.A. was on February 29, 2020.
On January 31, 2020, President Trump declared a public health emergency and issued a travel ban barring entry into the U.S.A. of most foreign nationals who travelled to China within the past 14 days. Other measures included mass testing, social distancing, a stay home policy, shutdown of large crowd gatherings, restaurants and bars, etc. and large scale disinfecting.
Both bacterial and viral infections are caused by microbes. Bacteria are single-cell creatures that can reproduce on their own.
Viruses, on the other hand, are smaller than the smallest bacteria and have a protein coat and a core of genetic material (DNA or RNA). Unlike bacteria, viruses cannot survive without a host and reproduce by attaching themselves to other cells and are known as ‘parasitic.’ Viruses are packaged RNA or DNA who make copies of themselves by hijacking the machinery of cells to replicate themselves.
Most bacteria are harmless, but those that cause infections are called ‘pathogenic bacteria.’ Viruses in most cases are harmful.
VIVA LA ELVIS
In Tupelo Mississippi, twin baby boys were born,
To Gladys and Vernon Presley, but sadly one passed on.
They named him Jesse Garon, their hearts so full of pain,
And then came Elvis Aaron, a breath of sweet refrain.
One heart beating for the two, their spirits intertwined;
To restore faith and hope and joy to dear ones left behind.
Elvis grew from babe to boy his heart set on a goal,
From boy to man to legend; The King of Rock n’ Roll.
He lived in humble dwellings, his Pa his Ma and he;
Playing his guitar, singing songs, pure golden melodies.
Country, Gospel, Blues and Jazz the rhythms of the soul,
And Rock n’ Roll, the very core of hearts both young and old.
While rising up to stardom, his pelvis did he swing;
Some church folk banged the gavel to crucify ‘The King’.
Their efforts came to nothing, as fans from near and far,
Surged on with huge momentum, to win that holy war.
So once again he stood there, gyrating at his will,
Until the day he heard a call that made those hips stand still.
Called to serve his country, the nation’s rising star,
And while along that journey, he sadly lost his Ma.
On the first of May, a bride’s bouquet, a blush of summer wine,
Elvis wed Priscilla; his beautiful fraulein.
Soaring in her lover’s arms on the wings of destiny,
Nine months later they were blessed with gorgeous Lisa Marie.
The happiness they shared together wrapped in melody;
Like a poet’s dream, a symphony, a lover’s rhapsody.
Then fate stepped in and dealt a blow that tore the dream apart,
And in its wake it left a trail of tears and broken hearts.
‘The King’, on stage and silver screen, he took the world by storm,
A real hunk of burning love in a GI uniform.
He rocked the house to loud applause, he played the matador,
And danced with pretty Hula girls in the Hawaiian sunset glow.
August 16, ’77 was the day ‘The King’ had died,
But forever lives the Legend, born on 8/1/35.
His mamma smiled and gently beckoned to her second born,
While holding close the one she’d lost that fateful winter’s morn.
The joy he brings to us down here can never be replaced,
Though many keep on trying in vain to fill the empty space.
His spirit fills all Graceland, to watch o’er kith and kin,
In the Heavenly sounds of Dixieland … I hear God joining in.
Elaine Randolph
Copyright ©2009 Elaine Randolph
*When I was 6, a neighborly man said,"Good morning little boy. Are you waiting for a bus? "No sir, I said. We don't have a bus. I'm waiting for my brothers and sisters. Our school is about a mile away, and most times, especially when it's bad weather, daddy takes us to school.
When I was 8, a neighborly man said, "Looks like you are headed to school, but I don't see a school". I told him that our school burned down, and now we go to school in a church. A new school is being built a few miles from here.
When I was 10, a neighborly man said, "Looks like you are about to help your mother in the garden". No sir, I replied. We do have a garden but I am about to go working all day in the cotton field. It is so hard and hot for everybody to work in the field for so little money. In some places it's against the law to have kids like me working, but not on this farm. When I grow up and finish high school, I'm leaving this place, because there is no good future here for us. I would rather spend my day playing ball or doing simple chores around the house. In this poor community kids only play when there is no work for them to do. When school is out for the summer, we spend all summer working in the fields. While I was still ten going on eleven, a neighborly man stopped me saying, "Hold on a minute young lad, why are you, your friends, and this dog running so fast?" Nearly out of breath, I told him that they just ran us away from playing at that playground over there. And this is my dog Jack. My dad got him for me when I was little. Say hi, Jack. Woof! The fields are wet and we don't have to work today. So we tried to play on the playground that's forbidden to us.
When I was 13, my daddy passed away; and a kind neighborly man said to me, "Hey young man, what's wrong? Seems you are real sad about something." I told him that my daddy died a few days ago, leaving mama, grandma, my three brothers, eight sisters, and me. There's no way that things will ever be the same now that daddy is gone. I'm missing my dad a lot. Daddy took care of us real good, but I'm not worried, because even though mama is only 35, she's a very strong lady and will do the very best she can. 10/9/17*Truth based fiction.Contest, Broken-Hearted Poems, BW, 8P
I let your eyes to visualise a garden on a loom;
Bluebells and marigolds in sway and lavender in bloom;
And there to play in a luscious green two kittens wrestling;
Up high in chirping swallow's play are feathered friends a-singing.
A figure of a handsome man is settled on a chair;
And by his side a beauty pure strokes lovingly his hair;
The Witch, or so the story plays, is set to work a-stitching;
For everyday she works to lay the groundwork for her witching.
The "Loom of Dunkele" is dark and glistens as if new;
That which it forges is by spelling set to render true;
This vessel handed down through time where Witches are sure wed;
Commutes it powers to the offsprings through that marriage bed.
At 35 she must be bride and to a handsome beau;
For Dunkele demands that beauty seeps through row to row;
The Witch beholden to this pact must honour this or else;
The Dunkele will take her beauty for its very self.
Dunkele demands a beauty in it's natural mould;
The Witch must weave the magic seams without her vêtements;
As pure as a newborn should she display her nakedness;
For Dunkele gave a perfect body not to be redressed:
No blemish, painting, marking, piercing for her skin to bear;
No jewellery should adorn her parts no braids within her hair;
Should she ignore these rulings and would set about to loom;
The magic would reverse all workings never to resume.
Above the loom, portraits in rows, of Witches one and all;
Each face a picture of a beauty unimaginable;
Throughout all time the loom has served and must forever more;
Or else a terrible curse be laid upon each maiden's door:
Indeed, to pander verily to a Dragon's carnal needs;
The Witch must feed on blood and guts and do as Dragon pleads;
Forever trapped in a darkened lair, no view of sun or sea;
The Witch would disappear from sight, no trace or history.
For 20 years this loom she spins as was the bargain made;
And in this time her beauty shone, success and wealth her aid;
Now in an hour the carpet loomed but for a patch to fill;
A slip of hair should she prepare to weave into the mill.
Then once complete the spell to speak releasing her shalom;
To lead her to that wondrous place where there awaits Handsome;
This rite of passage like forebears would guarantee the Witch;
Leaves on the blood line of her ilk a rich continuous stitch.
(22) And the pangs of childbirth drove her unto the trunk of the palm-tree. She said: Oh, would that I had died ere this and had become a thing of naught, forgotten! (23) Then (one) cried unto her from below her, saying: Grieve not! Thy Lord hath placed a rivulet beneath thee, (24) And shake the trunk of the palm-tree toward thee, thou wilt cause ripe dates to fall upon thee. (25) So eat and drink and be consoled. And if thou meetest any mortal, say: Lo! I have vowed a fast unto the Beneficent, and may not speak this day to any mortal. (26) Then she brought him to her own folk, carrying him. They said: O Mary! Thou hast come with an amazing thing. (27) O sister of Aaron! Thy father was not a wicked man nor was thy mother a harlot. (28) Then she pointed to him. They said: How can we talk to one who is in the cradle, a young boy? (29) He spake: Lo! I am the slave of Allah. He hath given me the Scripture and hath appointed me a Prophet, (30) And hath made me blessed wheresoever I may be, and hath enjoined upon me prayer and almsgiving so long as I remain alive, (31) And (hath made me) dutiful toward her who bore me, and hath not made me arrogant, unblest. (32) Peace on me the day I was born, and the day I die, and the day I shall be raised alive! (33) Such was Jesus, son of Mary: (this is) a statement of the truth concerning which they doubt. (34) It befitteth not (the Majesty of) Allah that He should take unto Himself a son. Glory be to Him! When He decreeth a thing, He saith unto it only: Be! and it is. (35) And lo! Allah is my Lord and your Lord. So serve Him. That is the right path. (36)The sects among them differ: but woe unto the disbelievers from the meeting of an awful Day. (37) How well they hear and see and hear them on the Day they come unto Us! yet the evil-doers are to-day in error manifest. (38) And warn them of the Day of anguish when the case hath been decided. Now they are in a state of carelessness, and they believe not. (39) Lo! We Only, We inherit the earth and all who are thereon, and unto Us they are returned. (40) And make mention (O Muhammad) in the Scripture of Abraham. Lo! he was a saint, a prophet. (41)When he said unto his father: O my father! Why worshippest thou that which heareth not nor seeth, nor can in aught avail thee?
For more information please visit:
http://www.quranexplorer.com/quran/
For many years I have realized that our hearts are very deceptive and unreliable. I cannot imagine how many times my heart has let me down and exposed the dark and negative aspects of it. Please permit me to share just one experience with you.
Thumbing through some old material a few days ago, I came across something that I experienced over 40 years ago and more than 2000 miles away. When I read the notes which had been in my possession for more than 35 years, my soul was enriched because I was sharing about the need for dedicating our lives to God which often demands that we take the initiative to say, "I'm Sorry", not only to God but also to fellow humans, even if we think that we are right.
On January 2, 1983, I referred to an encounter I had with a nurse in or about 1975 in Memphis, Tn. Now, 40 plus years later, I remember being in Memphis, but I don't even remember such an encounter. Had I not recorded the incident, I would not be speaking of it today. My notes reveal that a point was being made about changing our minds and taking the initiative to apologize. My notes also revealed that I was indignant toward the nurse, after which I left the scene and was heading home. Somewhere between that nurse and my home, The Holy Spirit convicted me of my actions and attitude.
Again, presently, I do not remember what really happened, but not only was I convicted by The Holy Spirit, I was compelled by Him to find a public telephone. Before I reached home, I telephoned the nurse and apologized for my behavior.
God knows every detail of what happened that day in Memphis, and I suspect if shown a video of my behavior, I would be embarrassed, to say the least, and perhaps surprised by the anger released from my heart. For many a year, we have heard it said, "Follow your heart". Technically, I do not follow my heart, but I lead my heart. And but for the grace of God, the cleansing blood of Christ, and the compelling forces of The Holy Spirit, I would be forever lost.
02162019PoSpMTFB
Gush Potatoes
2 cups of sour cream
5 Tablespoons horseradish
1?2 cup of white cheddar
1 Cup of grated parmesan heavy cream
3 tablespoons of lemon juice
1 tablespoon of lemon zest
1 Tablespoon of red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon of of fish stock
4 cloves of minced garlic
4 green onions
1/2 cup of minced herbs
( thyme, rosemary,, parsley, dill,oregeno and tarragon)
2 grated hard boiled egg yolks
--------------------------------------------
mix smooth set aside
in a casserole dish add 10 cups of cooked white potatoes
cover with sace mix evenly
bake 350 degrees for 35 to 45 minutes
)---------GREENS ALLEGRO--------(
4 cups of drained cooked mustard greens
(recommended( GLORY)
2 cup of steamed bell pepper
red and yellow
2 cups of caramelized onions
3 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/2 cup of pumpkin seeds
1 cup of chopped smoked turkey meat mixed with
about 1/4 cup of cooked bacon
1/2 cup of crushed sundried tomatoes
in a wok add olive oil and sesame seed oil mix
add garlic and peppers and onions
stri fry and add pork
1 cup of chopped ham and cooked bacon and turkey meat
add mustard greens
stir fry
add tomatoes
and top with pumpkin seeds
serve with tart pickled onions
)-----------> Honey, rum, Brown sugar Carrots<--------------(
ATONAL
Steam 15 cleaned carrots until tender
in a casserole dish
add the carrots
1 cup of crumbled feta
3 Tablespoons of rum
5 Tablespoons of mango juice
3 Tablespoons of Pineapple juice
1 cup of golden raisins
1/4 cup of honey
2/3 cup of brown sugar
1/4 cup of lemon juice
1 teaspoon of cumin
1 teaspoon of cayenne
1 tablespoon of dried cilantro
1/2 cup of cooked ground lamb
1 cup of pistachios
add carrots
in a bowl
add spices and brown sugar
mix honey rum and friut juices in a sauce pan
bring to a simmer allow the alcohol
to boil away add lamb
pour over carrots
crumble feta
attop carrots
sprinkle nuts a-top
cover with foil and bake
at 350 for 25 to 30 minutes
Adagio Meat corner
slow cooked beef
------------------------------
serve with roast lamb , roast pork, roasted beef, grilled shrimp and fish
Strawberries, kiwi, and with a vanilla bean cream pastry on a almond nut cookie tart for dessert
Paired with a Moscat de Asti
Patradoot or the Messenger 34/Many……….
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Like a naughty girl, she acts in many ways, dear letter,
To attract our attention by laughing or even weeping,
And often she gets angry on us still she wins our hearts,
When she sings her broken melodies, while sweetly mumbling.
As a lovely doll, she attracts and wins,
Everyone’s attention and heart, dear,
Remembrance of her sweet face,
Has made my heart so heavy,
As a newly come-up charming bud,
She is dearer to us than our life, dear letter.
She is even a darling of all the plants,
Trees, creepers and flowers of our garden, dear.
When the memories of her dear father,
Would be splashing in her tender heart, dear letter,
She would be going amid the plants and trees,
To distract the memory of her father, dear.
She is the hope and strength of her mother,
When I am away for freedom struggle or in jail,
In the lovely face of my daughter, you would find,
An image of her father, dear letter.
By the time you will get acquainted,
With this lovely child of us and of nature,
You would recollect immediately, dear letter,
My message you have to convey to my beloved.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 3rd Sept 2010 continue in 35..
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on kapoor_skk@yahoo.com
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
Don't allow him to corner you, punch him hard on his face, kick him hard and make him cry, just one nice smack and the title is all yours.
These are some of the expressions which I keep on shouting on the top of my voice when I watch brutal combat sports like Muay Thai Kickboxing, Western Boxing (USA), wrestling etc. Unlike other combat sports like Boxing or martial art games such as Karate, Taekwondo ; these sports have much higher degree of violence, witness about 30 – 35 deaths every year and not to mention innumerable fatal injuries. I cannot help but wonder how these fighters feel after winning their respective matches and crushing their opponents to death, or leaving them in a handicapped state making sure they don't have enough guts to face them again.
In the poem below written by me, I have tried to capture the thoughts of a fighter from my own perspective.
. I punch you, you punch me,
I kick you, you kick me,
Driven by a frantic rush to kill each other,
Tell me something - O my opponent,
Do we know each other, you and me?
Couple of minutes since I first saw your face,
Glittering and shimmering, like a rainbow after a rainy day,
Now it is drenched in your own sweat and blood,
And I don’t know why I loathe you so much.
Was it just destiny – your end so near,
Or you were just a fool, for you had no fear,
Broken nose, bruised face – you gave me much pain
In return, I favor you by digging your grave.
Parents, in laws, wife and children – you had many mouths to feed
Fight against me!!!!
You should have thought about them before trying this remarkable feat.
No family, no friends, no money – I have nothing to lose,
Did you ever think about this, you benumbed fool.
. This remarkable piece of poetry, you won’t be able to read,
For you will be busy paying for your deeds,
Fractured arms and shattered spirit - you will suffer many injuries,
Because against me there is nothing but miseries.
. Every second spent against me you will beg for mercy,
You won’t get any, you can trust me on that.
No achievements under your belt, its time you make me proud
I will set an example for others, by gifting you a shroud.
Form:
~
The-
start of a
new freedom-
is the simple vision
of Hope for all, of God. The
one prudence born, of the fruitful meditation
of His soul, softly, and simply, spoken. The tender
desire, found through the weary eyes ... the one
sweet emotion awaiting the humbled soul that has
been made certain, and is willing, and ready to remain,
now and forever open. For the willing heart lays open to
what struggle and strife this life, may bring, for the willing
are patient and aware of the awesome blessings that will come,
in this certain time of opportunity. For freedom for all is granted by
God and given the eyes to see the great passion of His Heart, rising and
forever evolving in the emotion of this Grace, and is brought through Gods
Hope to rise to this position, all through a life lived openly for all, and for the
one, and is seen to be one love sown in peace. The one condition of His that
is sown openly for all the soul, through the standard and goodness of Jesus'
peaceful words of mercy, found in the steady advance and revealed moreover,
in the nature of this, His devotion for all, shown through the perfection of His love
in faith ... and so, freedom is found, and does rest in measure, solely upon
the given surrender, the complete abandon to be found within the open
heart of the broken ... will ... so it is a willing devotion ... given the very
sight this season to see ... and the mind to dream. To take a jaunt upon
the merry winds of this gracious opportunity. For the peaceful pardon
and certain reasoning for this season ... is the one blessing given and
given for all ... of the Fathers foremost desire, seen by me now to be
the perfect love offered here to me as well, moving through the spirit
of His wayward hopes emotion. The tender grace ... born of His chance,
and granted for all, and so it is intended to be, a simple adaptation, alive
and well and abundantly thriving, within the heart of a new born child. To
be alone, picked up by Him and swept away, alive and wandering free.
Tossed about and around within the hands of the many winds of peace,
and so away goes the gentle chipper leaf, sent adrift, and amid the fall,
apart from the day of the perfect warmth shown to him in the beauty
and simpler days of his youth.