Long Across the nation Poems
Long Across the nation Poems. Below are the most popular long Across the nation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Across the nation poems by poem length and keyword.
Plans are made and family gather
by land or air, back to their roots.
Excitement builds; home is in view!
Across the nation, what great feasts!
By land or air, back to their roots
many have traveled; some have not!
Some, with dread, come out of duty,
but many others come with smiles.
Excitement builds; home is in view.
Kids at last can see their cousins!
Some may return to leaf-strewn streets.
Others come sliding in on ice!
Across the nation, what great feasts,
with turkey passed round the tables.
With relatives, friends or colleagues,
folk chat and give thanks on this day!
For the Thanksgiving Day Contest
of Nayda Ivette Negron
As a carefree lad I used to lie awake at night and wait,
To hear the mournful wail of the Nickel Plate midnight freight,
As it slowly wended its way thro' moonlit hill and vale,
Across the verdant Hoosier prairie on its silvery rail.
I dreamt of the far-away places from whence it came and went.
'Til I tasted the adventure if proferred, I'd never be content.
To be the engineer of that mighty brute was my aspiration,
And I vowed to pursue that dream with youthful determination!
The fireman stoked the coal, creating a feathery plume of smoke,
His massive hulk keeping the firebox full, never missing a stroke!
The conductor from his throne in the trailing red caboose,
Managed all, the other crew thinking him somewhat obtuse!
I even learnt one of its signals that I remember to this day:
Two long, one short, one long, meant it was crossing a highway.
I often wondered what loads it was carrying across the nation;
Corn, wheat, cattle or hobos heading for a greener destination?
I suppose that young boys dream and old men tend to scheme,
Striving their best to capture that ever elusive dream.
Alas, I never became the engineer that I wanted to be,
But it created in my soul a desire for places I pined to see!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Old Gertie was a gentleman’s lady
If she deemed to do anything, it would be shady
We followed her career and were shocked to see
The kinds of things she would do here, there and beyond the sea.
She was a dance hall girl, and a pirate queen.
The bawdy songs she sang were seen as obscene.
She carried a pistol, a sword, and a leather whip.
She made some cringe after they had made the trip
To meet Old Gertie who had a furiously crazy reputation.
In the thirties she was completely notorious across the nation.
Some church ladies came to reform her from Kentucky.
They ended up screaming in fear as they ran home said Lee.
Lee was Old Gertie’s advisor, another dance hall girl to boot.
Their friendship was known by the town, every mean old coot.
If you crossed one, you had to take on the other as well.
Old Gertie and Lee helped more than one guy back to hell.
My son’s name is Dylan, was country raised
in the hills of Wyoming where cattle graze,
helped on the ranch, but never felt fulfilled,
hated his hometown as teens often will.
But he ‘did his time’ until graduation,
went to college clear across the nation,
said by the best companies he’d be employed,
that he’d die rather than be a cowboy.
Now obviously this didn’t please me,
but I waved it off, he was but nineteen,
he immersed into college as young folks do,
bought into all the leftist clap-trap to.
He though protesting would do the trick,
solve everything he found ‘problematic,’
started smoking weed, raved ’bout ‘the man,’
even griped to me that you can’t ‘own land.’
Wouldn’t celebrate Christmas when he came home,
kept spouting slogans that just make you groan,
I sent him to learn, but he just annoyed,
he’d be better off had he stayed a cowboy.
Then he graduated to the real world,
employers cared not for protesting churls,
only got hired by a coffee shop,
where he contracted the damn hipster rot.
Pretentious preening, loved the obscure,
wore the strange clothes to show he was ‘pure,’
disparaged most music, such a killjoy,
he though that was better than a cowboy?
Even that was not his greatest mistake,
Hipster progressed into full-blown snowflake!
If you didn’t conform you deserved hate,
which he wrote up in online click-bait.
Harassed advertisers to silence ‘bad’ views,
your freedom meant nothing, he knew ‘the truth,’
any awful tactic he would deploy,
hard to believe he’d ever been a cowboy.
But minds in their twenties often are blind,
and Dylan’s allies came for him in time,
he said a ‘wrong’ word, took out of context,
before he could speak up his career was wrecked.
With no options left, he traveled back here,
I put him to work riding with the steers,
his sadness was heavy, his pride devoid
at the thought of becoming a cowboy...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Thank you for your grace, your mercy and everlasting love Father. Thank
you for giving me the strength to endure another day. Forgive me
for my sins I've committed. I come to the
realization that day-to-day my eyes will
face temptations. I'm lured by the
beauties of envy, greed, anger,
jealousy, lust and fornication.
Saved I am, though not
perfect; but with your
tools, I pray to
overcome my
sinful fixations.
Right over wrong
indeed I stand;
it's majority of the
wrong that over
powers the right in
most situations.
Understandably,
it's all apart of the
flesh's gravitation for
a craving appetite for
sinful sensations. Spiritually,
I refuse to become stagnant; mimicking
the gestures of still waters while observing
nature's sin waltz about society in a circular
motion across the nation. Therefore, I will testify
and witness to the lost souls being an inspiration. And
taking heed to the one and only literature as it's a form of migration. One
place to another place, from this place to a better place; my final destination...!
06-27-2013
Marmalade Trees
Let me tell you this little story
Of just how the world began,
It happened last October
With an explosion or big bang.
Treacle oozed from open cracks,
Honey flowing o’er hills and vales.
Marmalade trees and lemon curd,
Spawned tartlets upon the dales.
Vanilla flavoured water springs,
Deep rivers of sweet red wine.
Free range chocolate cream eggs,
Cherry Cheesecake on the vine.
Volcanic eruptions of popcorn,
Rained down on fields of mallow.
Soda streams of ginger beer,
Filled Cola pools quite shallow.
Caves filled with Ice cream cones,
Stalactites drip blueberry sauce.
Stalagmites taste like Iron Brew,
Just as you’d expect, of course.
Jam Roly-poly and toffee mines
Piping hot from there formation.
Developing Cotton candy clouds,
Sweet vapours across the nation.
So now you know how it all began,
Don’t believe what scientists say,
Earth was created by sticky sweet treats
and it happened in just one day.
The End or Beginning
We're getting ready, for a big operation.
It's all across the nation.
And you know, we'll be working hard..
Motivate-Vate-Vate-Vate...
Keep on going.
Keep on rolling.
Keep it moving everyday..
We'll generate some power.
We'll work it every hour.
Work our fingers to the bone..
Motivate-Vate-Vate-Vate...
Keep on going.
Keep on rolling.
Keep it moving everyday.
We can work in every muscle.
So we got to really hustle.
Till the legs and arms get sore.
Motivate-Vate-Vate-Vate..
Keep on going.
Keep on rolling.
Keep it moving everyday...
Rock-Lyrics by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1982,2014..ALL rights reserved..
Wistful yearning for an air of trustfulness
Zeus' libido was famed for its lustfulness.
Who saved thugs till all wits were withdrawn?
No farmer ever wiped dew off the lawn.
Nor is tyranny feared or known as grim.
It was a depressing one overall, and dim.
To his love-stricken spirit and melancholy.
He repents of the acts and admits his folly.
Spread the aroma of a worm-eaten shroud.
Unrolled, it breaks or oils shreds in a cloud.
Depression is feared across the nation.
I crave your love; this is my correlation.
Tell me I love you if my mood is gloomy.
I'll be distraught, yet carry that light to me.
With vile lying, you preyed on our feelings.
I'm not retaining them back—it's stealing.
Written: May 22, 2023
( Not For Any Contest)
Can you hear what I'm hearing?
I hear a cry, loud and clear,
blowing across the nation from sea
to shining sea; from the lowlands
and valleys in the east to the
highlands and mountains of the west.
It is the CRY OF THE SOUL!
From New York City to San Francisco,
Miss Liberty feels a threat. Her bell rings
out far less Bill of Rights. I hear cries
of agony dressed in fear and protest.
It is the CRY OF THE SOUL!
Such a cry can only be sounded by those who.
have tasted the sweetness of freedom and would
rather die than live without its liberty.
It is the CRY OF THE SOUL!
Such is not a cry encumbered with a thirst for
things material, but rather one from the soul,
bleeding red, white, and blue tears enough to
fill the nation's lakes, rivers, and reservoirs.
It is the CRY OF THE SOUL!
Hear ye well, every social class, rich or poor,
educated, elites, or commoners. We do well to listen
to the soul's cry. Such a cry cannot be bought or sold,
will never go on vacation, be placated, or evaded.
It is the CRY OF THE SOUL!
Born to wealth, he grew up strong
in superb health, lean and long
Excelled in school, tops in sports
the girls all drooled when he wore shorts
Married the girl of his dreams
their life together, peaches and cream
Got his M.d. in brain surgery
built a reputation across the nation
This was a man who had it all
no way ever he could fall...
Yet accustomed to ease with no setbacks
when 'real life' squeezed, the good doctor cracked
He worked for three years, started acting qu__r
he grew his hair, cried many tears
For lunch he ate
Meditation
Went on a diet
extreme starvation
He only lasted for a week
They found him floating in a creek
He'd penned this note of explanation
Memorials to -- LGBTQ Nation