Long Acknowledgement Poems
Long Acknowledgement Poems. Below are the most popular long Acknowledgement by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Acknowledgement poems by poem length and keyword.
Evidence cannot and will not be denied
When there is concrete evidence on a computer,
Or from photos, or slides or testing or patents;
That is what it is!
Call it disinformation all that you want
To cave into that is letting denial take over
And putting you and your loved ones at risk!
To avoid researching, when lies spread like wildfire is reckless
Lives are on the line and this is the reality we face
Unity is needed at a dangerous time like this
Truth is the blazing torch to light the way
New things are thrown at us every single day
If you want peace, courage, love and healing,
Acknowledgement is the only way!
Heidi Sands
4/30/22
I act like I am deaf, because I do not want to help.
This is not like me but today I am stuck in some kelp.
I am deep in the sea of my own painful thoughts all my own.
I am not good company, and I truly hanker to be left all alone.
I act like I do not know they could use me today.
They are going to have to recruit others, I do not care how far away.
I usually do more than my share, but today is not one of those days.
I rarely get acknowledgement or any kind of appreciation praise.
So here I sit, way down low in the dark deep depths of the sea.
Nursing my sore feelings, alone and depressed as I can be.
Nature’s masterpiece is divinely spun
She paints the sunset at a glance
Her brushstrokes at dawn are second to none
Across the landscape the colors dance
She paints the sunset at a glance
With a serenity that transforms my soul
Across the landscape the colors dance
As pastel skies sweep across the knoll
With serenity that transforms my soul
I wait for the stars as her palette gleams
As pastel skies sweep across the knoll
I’ve been given a second chance to dream
I wait for the stars as her pallet gleams
Her brushstrokes at dawn are second to none
I’ve been given a second chance to dream
Nature’s masterpiece is divinely spun
Heidi Sands and Joseph May
*A special acknowledgement to Joseph May for his wonderful writing in this collaboration and incredible patience as this one was difficult for me. Thank you.
7/18/17
Lay these memories of a flashbang lit night gleaming in the backdrop to rest
I walked a complicated path with you for so many bitterly conflicted years
My mind is tired, so tired, and weary of the future if I cling to something already gone
My sadness turned to anger, and back to hollowness in this cyclical whirlwind of emotions
Let me finally release the burden of this day, these memories, this conflict
Nobody won and nobody needs to lose anymore with the mortar’s last hot glow afoot
Bow and bid farewell, as I no longer wish to be unwell, or under a spell to dwell on my personal hell
Wake up tomorrow and keep the memory etched in stone but don’t let it stretch you thin
Don’t lose who you are, don’t pretend, just practice acknowledgement and let progress begin
The roses are the best at the tree
The eyes on them rejoice
Gather the iris spree
Say Aah with the glee in the voice
When from the branches quite high
Someone plucks a few and then leaves
In a bunch on a tray on the sly
A little irritation under the sleeves
What I am not inclined to do for myself
A sky like attitude is doing that for me
Somewhat hesitantly I see it there on the shelf
But then on the flower there is also a bee
Out of the pink a heart incognito
The molecules of the love-laden mind
Rejoicing at the fact that I cannot say no
To the Premium membership and does it hiding behind
You are a good soul whoever you are
Though the difference doesn't matter much for me
In the harsh daylight you are in the hidden stars
Thank you for the cup of tea
April 12, 2018
I don't ask anyone for much
no more than I'm willing to give myself
I learned to temper my expectations a long time ago
the consequence of constant disappointment
disillusioned down to the deepest depths of my soul
after all I’ve been told that has proven untrue
people pretending to think and feel differently than they do
their mask melting away to reveal their real visage
brandishing blades they thrust into my back
gutted as by a Samurai committing Seppuku
run through by swords of insincerity
my screams rendered silent
I bear the blame and shame they refuse to claim
upon my own broad shoulders
my snaky spine bowing under the weight like Quasimodo
A simple salutation would be a start to heal my harrowed heart
some sort of abstract acknowledgement
assurance that I’m more than a collection of cells
consuming resources with no productive purpose
that my words aren’t wasted on this apathetic world
where it seems everyone strives only to feed their own ego
How can one catch another’s attention
without coming across as crazy?
I’ve never seen the inside of a prison or a psychiatric facility
aside from a couple that had been converted into museums
A weary woman embarking on an expedition
searching for any shred of evidence of the elusive "nice guy'
unpretentious people who aren’t afraid to prove they care
others attest are out there, not merely mythical creatures
but then some say the same about Bigfoot
Maybe the existence of an eight foot ape is more believable
She doesn't need a pen to write down the journey of her day; but she's inspired!
This day will remain a part of her for all time.
A day that has been well spent.
She has been true to herself and feels enlightened.
Tomorrow is another day, but one she knows she will not waste.
Time has been of importance for what she wanted to reveal to the two people she loves so dearly.
She has revealed herself completely and honestly and that's the best she could do.
Their realisation was of acknowledgement; unconditional in their acceptance.
She hugged them in turn and felt a tear fall.
A weight; it's so true, was lifted from her shoulders and she is still overwhelmed.
She wanted them to know her for the person she really is; the person she'll be for always.
No longer wanting to threat about what they might say or do because she loves them.
They love her and have told her so; her Mother shedding her own tear.
Her Father lightening his acceptance with a comment she'll always treasure.
She can truelly be herself now and hold her Parents support in her heart;
Never to be beaten down by those that fall short of understanding the person she is.
I instantly open my eyes, at first I am unaware of where I am or why? I'm surrounded by a
darkness that is'nt dark, for there's a paleness to this darkness, its consuming, its
Illuminating, my thoughts stop -
Which allows me to acknowledge theres a hand within mine, its the most beautiful hand ever
designed.
I look to your face and navigate it until I reach my favourite place, your eyes, and they
are smiling at me, they are recalling our history, they are seeing what our future is
going to be.
We take steps forward hand in hand, without breaking the connection that our eyes began,
we stop abruptly, naturally, we look before us and we are at a cliff -
The view is magnificent , now everything is starting to make sense, down below is our
world, our earth, it becomes obvious that we are standing upon a star looking down upon
the solar system that created us.
We look at each other in acknowledgement, for the message is clear, Every single thing is
beneath us, it is only you and I my dear!
Three Cheers To Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
Momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday
during month of May
can be traced back
to ancient Greeks and Romans
devotional festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday,”
the other three hundred
and sixty five or six,
when leap year occurs,
especially Jewish mothers smother
also manifest courtesy
eldest sister or brother.
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
(a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
childbearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's embolden
greeting card companies
such as Hallmark generated a market
(money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed
companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea
of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite
of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed,
fêted, lionized, revered re:
formed unsanitary
squalid living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where
greater longevity doth hum
bull all because, she sought to regale mum
(mine) deceased after rigor mortis
immediately thereafter her sole son
found himself saddened severely glum,
and uncomfortably numb.
She poured all of her pedantic thinking
Into poems as though each were a painting.
Words like drops of paint meant something.
She never cared if some perceived nothing.
Like her essays, voice tends to be verbose,
But she is sure some are not even close.
She oft writes her unspoken feelings away,
Slowly liberating her soul day by each day.
She poured all of her years of growing pain
Into structured forms; hopes to one day gain
Acknowledgement she too is a true artist,
As well as one who can understand any gist.
Like her past lives, she writes from her heart,
Despite compromised mind, she makes art.
She is me, so I'll always write my poetry,
So someday, my poems shall tell my story.