Long Abled Poems
Long Abled Poems. Below are the most popular long Abled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abled poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear children, please hear my pathetic story, I am a rural,penniless dummy horse dancer, I worked a few decades for folk dance glory, I still haven't changed my honourable manner. No village is freed even from my false feet, This showcasing rich culture and real folklore, I make more noise than the band's beat , This day that makes my inner mind soar. Wearing a hollow horse shell around my waist, Tying a pair of wooden stilts on the small feet, Striking the ground to make clip-clop sound based, And creating an illusion of a correct riding seat. Risky venture leads to fatal consequences, It happens in my life on a long festival night, Due to the long performance,I lost my confidence, And it makes me a helpless person on the artist's site, The skillful performance makes me to earn so far, Alas, now-a-days ,iam a differently abled person, Dummy horse dancer becomes a dummy legged czar, Time alone determined the fate of humans, children..
I sat under the grey shadow of the gloomy night
Raising the closed curtain of the darkest day's flight
My heart subdued the voice of my inner shrine
Wiping the droplets of tears that wet my chine
I sat dumb hiding my impotence under the downy pillow
Unable to forget your pinched face that shot a thousand bolts into the clear billow
Would you forgive me if I just said a simple sorry?
Would that perturbed darkness on your mother's face bring back my glory?
Who is to be cursed in the stillness of this direful dream?
Who is to be put at fault amidst the leftover cherries of the melting cream?
Is it the almighty for his inhuman act of snatching your ability?
Or
Is it me for driving you into the envelope of the shooting debility?
I cannot forgive my ownself for this act of mine
I'ld like to one day witness your smile enlightening the global shrine
Yeah!
Only that can give me peace
Washing away the broken pieces of my guilt
P.S. I wrote this poem as I felt broken when I couldn't convince the head of our institution from sending a child who was differently abled away from the school. He has become so close to me and he loved me so much. He was kept in the school just for one week and I used to take very good care of him. As the boy behaved differently from the rest of the children, he was sent out of the institution. I couldn't do anything about that as I was not the decision maker. I couldn't convince the management as well. No one was to be blamed there. It's the management's duty to think about the other children as well. That night I couldn't sleep and something pinched me from inside. I still am not able to forget the face of that child. He gave a deep look towards me that asked me a thousand questions for which I had no answer.
I'm going gung-ho, I'll let the gun blow, I aint done no, until I say so,
I've got sayings to sow, when I lay they go woah,
ink the words in the row as I show off and show why to throw me the doe,
I can row the boat slow, fly high dive low, don't underrate bro and belittle or bellow as my bow and arrow will hit you I'm hallow. I'll take in the takings like a baker with dough, rhyme baking and making it rise up and grow, win prizes through flow as I fly like a crow. An honoured untouchable tactical poet
incredibly abled to powerfully show it. Could it be these single syllables
are only good for simple silly fools and simply stupid individuals who sin and sit all cynical while I sing with awe so clinical reaching toward the pinnacle, ideals I'm phenomenal, I feel this is probable.
Opalescent the heavy moon glows low,
Rhapsodizing in pale light, winding
Gauzy haze about gnarled branches.
Apples gleam red where moonbeams steal,
Nectaring night breezes in perfumed scent.
Innocence illumined, for creatures kneel
Commending praise beneath the trees.
Fabled branches, heavy with fruit,
Rustle leaves tinting toward gold and
Umbrella the still sanctuary cradled between old roots.
Invocation of gratitude to the Creator--
The orchard transcends to a cathedral,
Sanctifying a new year’s harvest, pure and clean.
Copyright, August 15, 2016
Faye Lanham Gibson
Deaf can see symphony sounds with eager eyes
Imagining the noise as brown, flight of butterfly
Feeling the music from the car radio in time
Nodding with it in silver synch
To the rhythm deaf not blind
Walking on the beach as tan sand suckles feet
Toes making bowls of mud
while waves dance on repeat
And the cascading sun rays
All golden what is their sound
Perhaps they sound like a soft smile falling down
The drumming of an infants heart
As he jumps in arms and hands
Holding sweet child like holding a star
From a distant heaven or far land
The sound of tears of joy
Splashing in festive face
Happiness that fill a void
Gifts of God’s love and grace
Can you hear my satin soul
Rejoice on the deaf choir
Hands dance a ballet of gold
Sign language lifted higher
I am differently abled to hear
Sights hearing people may miss
Sounds of excitement I hold dear
As a deaf person I feel bliss
Don't think you've fallen
where no one else has fallen
don't think you're fighting
a fight no one's fought
Growing up in a world of rainbows and glitter
shielded from the stress and the strain when you're little
learning balls and chains knock you down like a skittle
now knowing how lows always follow on quicker
this place you've fallen is a test or a calling
a challenge to change via natural warning
indifferent nights sleep waking up in the morning
good times come sudden for now bad keep pouring
You're facing a hurdle
it's still the same track
just jump land and cycle
pace in vein get back
most willingly abled
with skill to adapt
you're facing a hurdle
it's still the same track
My list of domestic chores
vocations
avocations
I no longer wish to know and do
grows longer with each advancing year.
And, because I live with no one
capable and willing to work with me,
side by side,
or even in alternating shifts
and loads
and harvests
and plantings,
it is difficult to grow experientially sure
my motivation has faded entirely,
whether with at least one Other,
or by myself
with only nonhuman fully-abled natures
for song and dance accompaniment.
But, what of my non-domestic bucket list?
That larger stage of ecofeminist transformation,
ecovillage healthy wealth invitation,
sanctuary, green and/or multi-colored celebration
for compassionately resilient
and nutritional communication,
active hope,
sacred trust vocation
for
and of
and within Earth's warmly integral home
and Great Transitional heated heart potential.
No bucket I could imagine
would fill all these polypathic double-binding destinations
becoming wealthy here
and trans-regenerationally healthy throughout time
communioned here as now
to my remembering mind
This further fortune future-hunting heart
fulfills my whole EarthBucket
with passion's perpetually young
embodied co-investments
transcending past wealth
through immanent
imminent future inclusive health
resonant within all EarthTribe.
Page 2
The Shoot Out At The KOA Corral
The continuing saga of Zack Waverly
The mare was to far gone
and I had to put her down
There was nothing I could do
To help her make her back to town
When things have come to this
Life seems barely worth a trifle
As the only mercies' left
comes from what's inside a rifle
I saddled up and rode due west
Not to my destination
But, took a little detour
To make an allegation
On a hill top, I approached
As the Sun hung at mid-day
and I saw a man, with whip in hand
strike a Dapple Gray
My poor horse, was exhausted
But I guess he some how knew
He reared up on his two hind legs
Then down the hill flew
I've learn to hold on tight
When Ole Buck gets inspired
I swear, His eyes turn black as coal
While his nostrils fill with fire
He raced to make a beeline
To where the horse was being beat
Then stopped outside the wooden fence
In the mid-day summer heat
"Jonah, stop it now"
Is what I shouted from my horse
"Don't make me come and make you
'Cause you know I can of course"
Jonah wasn't tall but a strong and abled man
and so I pulled my Walker Colt
and watched the whip drop, from his hand
HeeeeYahaaa, Partners Keep your Posse out lookin' for page 3
'twas the night before any Christmas...
And all over our any town,
Lonely seniors tried so hard to forget,
What life was like in a land long ago.
When husbands or their wives were still living,
and the kids were all still home, very giving,
Today, that device called a phone,
Is not used even though they
are now even in cars?
And families send you photos of them in bars?
Or...places to impress we silly old elves!
"Why don't they leave us alone and get a life
for themselves."
So off they go, these abled bodied-beings,
Not even dreaming that perhaps one day,
they will be ancient and alone, too.
So, whether it's Christmas or just a plain day,
pick up any phone you own!
Say hello to the living,you cannot speak
to the dead!
What is wrong inside your head?
Don't think a text or email can ever replace
lovable you.
And as for our"busy" excuses?
I won't say what I call that.
What, are you...a conceited aristocrat?
Call your friend, cousin,grandmother,
grandfather,Mother or Dad.
Anyone that you care about.
If not, it tells me it's you....it's only
..whom you value.
These old folks in the twilight of their
years,
Must not be ignored, you never see
their silent tears.
Do people no longer care?
They miss being loved and respected,
And believe it or not,
A dog or a cat will not make it for them.
They need a human being,I ask...when?
These seniors are terrified to call you
at home or at work.
In a world that over glorified technology,
Where life has become one word
communication.
And there is no life on earth,
Except living in the Facebook Nation?
Worse, emojis are not cute,
Nor, what does it say about you?
And more horrid to me, when the initial of
your baptismal name becomes you?
It's sad..and as for automated replies?
Are you kidding?
An insult to humanity.
None of us is royalty.
Conceited, full of self, you bet.
I don't know where the life I knew
has gone.
I don't even know where love
has gone.
We all morphed into Alexa's?
I cannot give birth to the past.
Just talk to my walls and stare at
unwashed frying pans..alas!
PanagiotaRomios
4/26/2019
2:15 pm PST
It's funny how one might look down upon disability
And not regard it as an integral part of the society
Only for then to realize that in us still lies the ability
To cast a vote, and take part in changing the society
Cause a vote once casted takes its own cause
And a vote doesn't have a disability
So it counts and when it's cast it sets out a course
In the many numbers that would want accountability
Many times for the sake of image in politics
Disabled might get the limelight
And show people how they care about us in their tricks
To get votes but still our plight won't be given the light
We've seen how for just being differently abled
One is not seen as a worthy candidate
Instead told to wait it out, cause we labeled
Labeled as people who get in through nominations to date
Yet we can stand and chant out our slogans
And come up with better policies for us
But the same hierarchy of government organs
That claim to support our status, are still not working for us
And to date, we still facing discrimination
But we still keep voting for change
Voting in a better government for the good of the nation
So that one day, we as the persons with disability feel the change
The PO£T