Long Abducted Poems
Long Abducted Poems. Below are the most popular long Abducted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abducted poems by poem length and keyword.
TRIBUTES TO MY POETRY SINCE CIRO GARGANO CRIME BOSS IS STILL SENDING CORRUPT CITY OFFICIALS TO EXTORT MY AMERICAN POETRY WRITTEN 1999 SUMMITTED BY HAND AND MAIL POETRY DOT COM THE OLD POETRY DOT COM THEY WERE SUED NO LONGER ACTIVE AFTER RIPPING POETS TITLES ZAPPING POETS ORIGINAL WORK WHICH IS WHY I COPY ALL MY WORK AFTER WINNING 1999 2000 2001 AT 3613 BAY AVE. TAMPA FLORIDA TRULY A BLESSING HOWEVER EVERY YEAR I STILL RECIEVE OFFERS TO ALLOW MY POETRY TO BE IN AN ANTHOLOGY I ALWAYS DECLINE SIMPLY BECAUSE I HAVE SEVERAL ANTHOLOGIES OF POETRY CIRO GARGANO JHORE JOHNSON WAS FURIOUS SHE WAS TRYING TO EXTORT MY WORK WITNESS BASED ON MY WEARING WIRES PREGNANT BEING ABDUCTED THE MONSTER AT HOME DOMESTIC VIOLENCE FROM MY CHILDHOOD EYES COCOA MY NICK NAME BEING BORN DURING A BLIZZARD MY DAD PASSED OUT HOT CHOCOLATE THE COLOR OF MY COCOA BROWN SKIN POETRY BECAME MY LIFE ESPECIALLY AFTER THE CAR BOMB I WROTE PANIC ATTACK AND THE WRATH DECEMBER 23RD 2003 2610 PROVIDENCE I NOTICED JHORE JOHNSON TRIED TO DELETE MY TITLES ALTER DATES HER SPECIALTY FALSIFYING DOCUMENTS SHE'S A REAL COCK ROACH 1999 I WAS HURT AT WORK RETIRED DISABILITY SO I SUMMITED WORK TO MONTEL WILLIAMS FOR MS. SURVIVORS I HAVE PEACE A CERTAIN PEACE THAT CAN NEVER BE BROKEN BY IDENTITY FRAUD I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR THE TRADE AND REFERENCE DIVISION AT HOUGHTON AND MILLFLIN ALSO GREAT SOURCE EDUCATIONAL GROUP FOR ASSISTING ME IN WITH MY ORIGINAL WORL AFTER JHORE JOHNSON BROKE INTO MY TOWNHOME IN TAMPA FLORIDA ACTUALLY ARRIVING WITH A GUNMAN TO KILL ME OVER MY AMERICAN POETRY I HAVE TRULY BEEN BLESSED THIS TERROR OCCURED WHILE I LAY BLEEDING AT ANYRATE THAT OLD POETRY DOT COM WAS REPRIMANDED AND WENT OUT OF BUISNESS THIS NEW POETRY DOT COM ISN'T A REAL SIGHT IT'S DESIGNED TO EXTORT POETS POETRY AND PERSONAL INFORMATION GOD BLESS AMERICA
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Am I still forbidden from asking the questions?
Will you order I sit, listen and take all directions?
Am I still to work blind, alone at this table?
Will you ever realise that I’m willing and able?
Why so secret about my future plan?
Don’t you see that I am a proud man?
Why so silent about why I am here?
Don’t you care if I just disappear?
Can you explain why I’m not back in class?
When will you allow me not to trespass?
Can you, honestly, stop playing this game?
When will you understand you are destroying my name?
A wise old man
standing up there,
on the cliffs, thinking
about all his life and mistakes.
Everything he did wrong,
everything he did right.
A sad and honorable man,
feeling blue, wanted to jump
to the dark and cold
waters to disappear forever into the ocean.
I couldn't understand why.
I could not understand
what the problem was with him.
I managed to take him to a tabern.
We had some drink and we talked a lot.
This man was a honorable teacher,
teaching from wrong to right.
His wife squeezed him
to get the best juice from him.
His daughters were abducted by an evil mum,
while he had no chance.
He was standing up on the cliffs,
watching the waves, watching the cold sea,
ready to jump.
I told him to come with me,
I told him, I will be all ears for him to be listened to.
An old teacher, an old man
taught me a lesson.
A young teacher told him another lesson.
We all have to learn, from old and young people.
By the way, he didn't jump in the end.
Now we are friends,
we talk a lot on the cliffs,
watching the sea in its mood.
We have our way.
How did the jungle get here?
Did it come on a train
like an old time circus
rolling in before dawn
while we splattered safety-nets
with doomsday drivel.
A rainforest has invaded;
has manifested out of alarm and
a far too high quotient
of native dumbness.
The clacking of parrots
mutes the lowing of milk cows,
only the cicada drone on
happy to click along.
This green thunder is oppressive.
The domestic canopies of backyards
are sprouting mythic Triffids.
Grass is getting spikey and carnivorous.
Tabby cats are abducted
by prowling panthers.
Giant sloths hang from the hedgerows.
Did we dream up this primal Eden?
Did we cancel
the regular unpredictable weather
of predictable Ohio?
Global Warming
could never have appeared to be real
if we had not made it so
by thinking it so,
and as so many here
think very little -
we had it coming.
I stare at my mirror
So shocked by what I see
There is a strange woman
Staring right back at me
I must’ve been abducted
This must be a crazy trick
For the reflection that I see
Is making me quite sick
Are those horrid wrinkles?
Is that a double chin?
The neck that was my joy
Is pillar like- not thin!
My eyes have no sparkle
They look listless and glazed
It gets so hard to focus
When all I feel is dazed
Maybe it’s just a dream
From which I will awake
For how could that be me?
I’m sure it’s just a fake
I pinch myself real hard
The mirror woman screams
Oh no, it must be true
Now both of us cry streams
Mirror, you’re a traitor!!!
Mirror, this is a crime!!!
I order you to hide!!!
The tell-tale signs of time!!!
Do me a small favor
Tell me a little lie
Reflect a younger me…
Oh please, give it a try!
Eileen Manassian
Dear Soupers....Thought I'd share with you something exciting that's happening in my life at the moment. I'm on YouTube as the host of a program entitled, Rhymes of the Times. I share my love for poetry and my poems from Poetry Soup. I've started with my most viewed poems. I have four episodes up, and I thought I'd share the third one with you. Tomorrow, I will have The Paradox of Love up. Hope you enjoy these simple programs. The Channel name is Eileen Manassian. Hugs.
The Mystery Box
The metallic box housed four puzzled people
Imprisoned two boys and two girls of undetermined age or origin
Uniformed in gray attire with no insignia's or other clues
They stayed as choice was not an option
To reason out a plan or what to do
No idea of what was going on
Trapped in limbo for the moment near hysteria
A black and white world of secret
They looked at one another as total strangers
Perhaps a military exercise of sorts was afoot
Or experiment gone wrong without a warning
Odd surroundings now measure out their lives
No memories remained of how this happened
Their accommodations consisted of an empty floor
Dimensions undetermined
Four walls with an opening up above
Defined the absolute detention
Overlooking existence beyond the room
Just past the squared off rim
There could be nothing out there
And exposing nothing more for exploration
Except an empty sky void of color
The box too high to climb from
No doors, no props, to reach the exit at the top
Outside a mystery prevailed
That caused them deeper fears
Nothing stirred or moved in sky or ground
Not a single thing perceived
Speculations filled in their days
No one remembered anything
Not even names and numbers
In this existential game
This must be some sort of joke or prank
Was this an alien world?
Were they abducted?
And with a lack of facts
No rhyme or reason
All their thinking for escape is simply reaching
No one hears a thing within
Not even screaming
Mysteries in a box without a name, remain
Written by H2O the silent poet
Silence Becomes Violence
The society has become blind, deaf and dumb
Its emotions have become numb
The knights are in deep slumber
Or are in the grave
The land seems to have no brave souls
People are robbed in broad daylight
No one dares to fight for the right
People lie for self comfort , old despised
Humanity manhandled, not revived
People see, hear but not speak
Were phones have more value than ones soul
This is the generation of the meek
The youth is busy in making video
Seems they have their own studio
Share the video, stare the woman
We have become unethical human
Sitas are abducted
No girl is protected
People roam without fear
Is this modernity, my dear?
Humanity is caged
But no war is waged
Listen, if you have any guts in you
Be the brave lion, not like cat that just go
Mew!!!
Because:
When crime spreads
Blood like water sheds
Women naked and raped
Humans chained and caged
Children fade and afraid
When lie is held high
The truth feels shy
Parents are thrown out
Criminals roam without doubt
When riots are solemn right
There is neither vision nor light at the end of the tunnel
When youth is used
Only to be misused
When the country is in ruins
Satan and Mephistopheles are twins
When home is not safe
Even father commits rape
If you still keep the silence
This is called master violence
Silence in these times
Is the heinous crime sickening ??
Rise and eradicate the crime
Reinstate the peace,in humanity elevate
Copyright @2021
No man's too small to hoist a helping hand,
Nor any a deed too small if well-meant,
Nor a task too tough for a noble end,
Mind can if means can't make a mighty dent.
A journey of a daunting task off shore
Begins with but a single step forward,
‘Drop by drop filleth lakes’ is no vain lore,
An ounce of action… oft have we this heard.
Many a learned man knows this truth well,
But rather than help he spins hyper hypes.
Intention matters more, how a squirrel
Strove to earn mythical laurels and stripes,
So goes a tiny squirrel's tallest lore,
Silent did she work building a barrage—
An episode from an epic of yore,
So sang sage Valmiki of ancient age.
A folktale, an aside from Ramayana:
Rama's spouse abducted was to an isle—
Confined to a far off spot by Ravana,
That came camouflaged in a monk's fair guile.
When lured and mislead by a golden deer,
That too was the demon's bewitching guile,
In stealth when cried out, ‘O Lakshman, my dear',
And destiny unfolded in a while.
In Rama's voice the wily demon cried,
And Sita beseeched Lakshman, forcing him
To render help; what followed, a bad dream,
For, Ravan waited hiding in monk's hide.
The search began thence in woods and deep vales,
Hilly terrains, meadows and leas and dales,
And they came searching to where ends the land,
An ocean spread forth, looking like no friend.
Hanuman, Rama's key aid, a legend,
To whom no task too big was, such was he,
Then volunteered to leap across the land
To luring Lanka, a land across sea.
And returned soon with hopeful but sad tale:
Captive Sita’s safe in Ravan's red hands,
Who, in no mood peace parleys to avail,
Oh had to be dealt with on Lankan sands.
________________________________________
Originally Ramayana was written in Sanskrit by Valmiki, a sage who was a fierce bandit in his early life.
Epic | 06.04.13 |
Continued in Part II
“I am somebody’s child, and I need attention, I am somebody’s child and I need affection, I am somebody’s child and I need love and devotion”, she murmured as she walked through the door. She wasn’t sure where she was going when she left the house; she wasn’t sure about the next encounter, but she walked for five hours until she reaches the border.
The speed, at which she moved, left everyone confused but she was determined to make a point just to stay alive. She did not plan a journey she just wanted to live, and hang out with the daffodils but the trap was already set before they made the bet. She could sense it from within and so she had to learn to swim; with strength in her arms and strides in her feet, she made it through the dark before the break of dawn.
They searched everywhere for her, but they could not find her, the public became aware of it and they start to build a myth. Officer Jones devised a plan to begin the search mission he knew what he had up his sleeve, because he was so hard to please. He had laid the ground work to start digging up dirt, to catch the big fish and throw them back into the ditch, the climate was right and the alibi was riding high in the sky.
The search went on for days with no sight of her abducted in the bush or held captive by the brook; it was just one of those situations where you have to keep on top of things before the universe done you in.
The cheese, and the pie, the crown and the dye were just too reveling so they had to search for another meaning, and the sky was their only hope to keep sailing on the boat and so the narrative changed to give her all the blame.
Was it a crime torn area or someone lost their way and bumped into a criminal flattering in the sky that is a one-hundred-dollar question from a village miner who could not fit the pieces together for the director or the operator.
And so, the question remains, whose back was she trying to cover? My mind wander and wander and it didn’t look like a deal that turned sour, neither was it a set up by gate to discover something before it was too late. Everything seems to be in perfect harmony with the guitar, the piano, the band and the musical director.
The great Gatsby would have won the case if Tom Buchanan had not shot him in the pool over the death of Myrtle Wilson his darling wife. "I am somebody’s child," she screamed.
I’m Kong the Gorilla, formerly of Africa,
but I now live in New York, in North America.
Carl Denham and his boys had to go and capture me.
They sailed on a boat to my land to make a movie.
A nearby native tribe was as nice as they could be.
I would be worshipped, and they’d leave a woman for me.
A member of Denham’s crew was a blonde with beauty.
Her name was Anne Darrow. Wow, she was a real cutie!
The tribe abducted her because blondes have scarcity
in that part of the world where I would roam nice and free.
They thought of her as the perfect sacrifice for me;
so they left her out as something complimentary.
When the crew of the ship came to rescue dear Annie,
Carl Denham got a bright idea quite suddenly.
Being greedy, he thought he would make lots of money.
Like a fool, I would become attached to this honey.
So with all of those tranquilizer guns, they shot me.
They took me to New York to live in captivity.
It was there my life history turned another page.
I was in chains in a theatre upon the stage.
It was there when I learned Anne would marry Jack Driscoll.
What did she see in that guy? I’ll say he’s an CENSORED!
When I found out about that, I got mad and broke free.
Then I grabbed Anne and I would take her away with me.
To the top of the Empire State Building we would be.
Then those dummies sent a squadron of planes after me.
You know what happened next, that really ruined my day.
To my son in Africa, here is what I will say:
“Son, I want you to beware. I’m hoping that you hear,
Carl Denham is returning to Africa next year.”