Long Allegiances Poems
Long Allegiances Poems. Below are the most popular long Allegiances by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allegiances poems by poem length and keyword.
Written to my Cousin Madelyn McKay six years ago. She was a poetess here as cancer consumed her body. May my magical and kind cousin ….rest in peace!
Maggie . She had sent me an article on how great the 1960’s were! I am glad she is not here to see our civil rights being taken away, the murder of children, and our Congress having people in it, whose allegiances are not to
America. God is dead to many, our currecy is marked with these words, “ In God we trust. But He is being repaced by a new religion, “Wokeism”.Dear
It was painful to read, for me,anyway. I don't even want to remember fun things anymore!
Dearest Cousin Maggie….
We exist in a hellish world,
Surrounded by invisible bars.
Slapped down at every corner.
We are riddled with technology,
which many drool over. Not me!
Where are the people? Where is such a
thing called a voice?
Where is love?
Where is humanity?
The sound of my fingers, tapping on the
iPad, smileys, LOL's will never replace being
with another..
I am glad I am old, and welcome death.
I see no point in living in a world that is
ice cold and growing to be a repressive.
Communist state.
And I do believe at death you see the face of
God! How can I not want that.Maggie?
An empty on life is a device is bad enough.
While my fellow beings do not want to hear
their right to live is ending…Far worse.
The past! Terribly painful to recall. The punishment
for those who speak out now is vast and wide.
Love, Cousin Pangie
Postscript.
Violence is at an all time high.
Mass murder goes unpunished and people do
not realize, they could be next.They put their
fingers in their ears and will swim in pools of
positivity to drown out the screams of reality
and lies by repressive governments.
They forgot who Hitler was. We have many of
his evil ilk, in all countries and citizens who think
they are adults, hiding and pretending evil does
not exist?
Good people are jailed in their countries while
anarchists, subsidized by our governments…
Rule your world and mine. And our precious
children’s blood runs in the streets. P.R.
Note, This is an opinion piece. Thank you
for reading.
Poem 1 8/7/2024
if I lie, will you believe me?
what if I don't, will you believe me?
what must I do for you to believe me?
what must I say for you to believe me?
what do you believe?
what you see or what you don't
what you hear or what you don't
what you know or what you don't
what you feel or what you push away
will you remember?
and if you do, what will you believe?
what will you do?
will you forgive or will you forget
will you hold on in anguish, in disarray
or will you stand still and tell your story
will you take arms and fire
or will you throw a bouquet of flowers
will you watch children cry and mothers bleed
or will you look away and point your finger
at amputated fathers, brothers, and sisters
who no longer believe
how will you do it?
peacefully with carefully measured words
or aimlessly with swords and guns
and weapons as everyone watches
some in horror
some in delight
some in sorrow
some in vindication
some clinging to allegiances
some to age old bonds
some to stories told long ago
some to sound bites that penetrate their soul
how will you do it?
carefree with lies neatly folded and covered
with no accountability for your actions
as you strip the world of its innocence
all in the name of your forefathers
your faith
your history
not mine, yours you say... yours, not mine
this divide, imaginary lines
as you raze your forged enemies
your brothers and sisters who once were
what will you say?
I am right and you are wrong
you lie and I don't
this land is mine and not yours
I was here first, not you
look around
it's history calling out to you
do something
do anything
do nothing
you have nothing left... anymore
give peace a voice
let it speak
listen, just listen
how naive you say
you are children, living in fairytale
teaching little ones in classrooms and playgrounds to share
yet all you do is shamefully take and take
for what?
sit down
say nothing
do nothing
just smile
look at each other
really look and see what you've done
share what is left before it's all gone
this is the way...
this is the way...
this is the way...
does it even matter?
Is it not pleasurable to endorse an escalation of elephants using escalators in the tree lined shopping centre? Is it not welcomed the sight of strong strength upon steel rotations? Variable tusk equals variations of moves and downhill the trumpets often sound somewhat obscured. But obscured is not obsolete and obsolete is neither an octagon eating-house or a occurrence of origami playing with the wrappers from the over filled bin. And so the elephants go up and down. Escalating elephants. The leader of this tribe finds the door to power this machine. And adjusts the setting to quick. Then at speed with bags bought and fodder awaiting. Whoosh up and whoosh down. With trunks packed and held tightly to preserve produce bought. In every silver steel there lives a silvery eyed mouse. Whose eeking can be heard across shipping lanes, lakes, shops, towns and cities. Even the darkest angel eagle can say that he or she has heard this cry of rodent. Like eeeeeeekkkk eeeeeeekkkkk repetitive reaching racing ranting remembering really radioactive radical ratios. Ratios are non productive well ironed suits. And bustling around in jams never really was equivalent to swimming nine lengths of tea using a back stroke. Thought the swim suited cockroaches. And that it was said was said and read by the fourteen wisdomatic tree lines, the curvaceously created crescent bushes, the shores of the pies, and the talking table of great magical power. Behold no crystalized pork and mildew bap to a ceiling infested with the breaths of nine ants. And off all went in a balloon. The little cups bursting, the bustling bumpy bouncing buoyant bullfrogs, the bills, the great tall seventeenth century oak tree. Look how far they soar above the trees. Wow. Amazing isn't it? Shall we go eat the biscuit now? Yes. Good. Z Allegiances Z at thirty nine giggling milk bottles jostling and preforming ballet by a door to twelve cartwheeling lambs and carthorses' at a farm event in the meadowland. Xxxx z pinnacle reaches in dark spotted tie. Z
Form:
Remember That We Are BEAUTIFUL
As humans, we actively help others…ALTRUISTICALLY.
Benevolently relieving burdens pleasing…BIG-HEARTEDLY.
Celestial hoping rewards souls with inner strength's…CALM!
Divine inspirations amaze; its wonder delivers mountains of DELIGHTS.
Extraordinary and ordinary folks co-exist intrinsically…EQUAL.
Faithful followers of the inner voice, solve conflicts with…FAIRNESS.
Generous gifts of which the Creator deems us worthy generates…GOODNESS
Happily, we comfort our friends and show compassion, healing…HEARTS
Individual industriousness provides direction…INDELIBLY.
Justice, when hearing the errant, seeks not revenge… JOYOUSLY.
Karma, led by spiritual energy, directs paths through life…KISMET.
Long-suffering and persistence charm leads sinners to heaven's …LOVES!
Mysteries uncovered feed curiosity, making man smarter…MARVELS
Notwithstanding sacrifice, we do favors for friends…NECESSARILY.
Offering our allegiances, we defend our homelands…OBEDIENTLY.
People inspired, promulgate principals to live by…PEACEFULLY.
Questioning selves and reality in order to improve…(getting better) QUARELLESSING.
Remembering and respecting other's feelings and beliefs…REVERENCING
Steadfastly selecting supreme humility as a goodly option…SELFLESSLY!
Trusting many to choose right, we exemplify faith in mankind…TIRELESSLY.
Utopia as a goal, defended to the death, bravely seeks the right…UNENDINGLY.
Voices reaching out with good examples, void of hatred, overcome…VICTORIOUSLY.
We, the beautiful, care about the well being of others…WILLFULLY.
X-tra hopes, copious kindness, generous goodness, finds loves…XOXOX
Yearning for self-improvement through soul searching surrenders…YESTERDAYS.
Zealous living shines from within and befits us, beautiful mankind's ZENITH.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
May 24, 2010
Poetic Form: Double ABC ...a touch of End Rhyme! (FUN!)
On a pale July winter
I danced with the last Princess
In the middle of a sordid one room...
So long after sunset and so far from dawn
The smell of tomorrow burnt and tempting
I warmed my frozen fingers between her thighs
When life gave us more losses than victories
Our veins pumping arrogant blood
A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather
I had the hope her & I would end up together
I prayed we would grow grey together
Like cannibals reciting shrewed poetry
we danced to the rhythm of our conniving hearts
Our shivering skins shedding off of our ripe skeletons
I listened to her soft bones move like wet clay
I loved her more than sharks love innocent blood
Had her caged in the un-democracy of my frigid hands
Her shivering skin whispering dirty talk to mine
Her breath on my breath, taking the carbon from your lungs
Her fingers like syringes sucking oxygen off of my hemoglobin
We danced our sorrows to Ron Pope and Emelli Sande
Sundays we cuddled all day stuck on alphas
Taking steps back and looked at the bigger picture
Bound by no allegiances before the cliques and fake friends
We danced the pain to the curve
There were no distances we couldnt measure
No numbers louder than we could raise our voices
But we danced in geometrical fractions
Our feet uncaged from our ankle sockets
Ignoring the checkerboards in the morality of our peers
Like vampires running through mystical forests
We danced to the echoes of our miserable days
The anthems hummed by our oppressive government
That conspired to make us choose, need or want
My cataracts starred at her soul
Her soul spoke six languages to my heart and
We danced, with our faces like dominoes
Entagled like flamingoes at birth
Each moment became an equation of cosines
Before we lost it all, we danced!!
Time pieces used to have hands and smiling faces
precision wheel works springs and faithful charm
They honoured pace velocity and bouncing stride
never faltered as long as one took a moment to rewind
When the midnight hour comes today maybe it’s too late
to see the whole-some picture a whole twelve hours
of day and night and to cherish the ticking clock of two
full circles a string of moments life and final judgement
‘Live in the moment’ they say but the past is the future
the present only conveys meaning when written complete
This script does not wish to embrace nostalgia for its
own sake does not seek doom and tomb of modern rush
yet when all things are said and ultimate impermanence strikes
a gong a melody served a reminder of finite mindfulness
Today flow is computerized extinction’s gloom it passes unnoticed
when numbers on the scale of time revere the God of tempo
as grimace and façade of crunching microchips and silicon
and macro megalomaniac blindness beckon in destruction
As a blip on the map of evolution we humans tend to forget
that we are mere keepers of the planet that doomsday is a real
possibility not despite but because of our allegiances with speed
the masters of money greed delusion and questionable innovation
An old-fashioned timer would at least demonstrate at face value
right at the top and undeniably apparent that there is a pivot
a critical mass a point of no return once we forget what time is all about
I bear no watch myself but on this day I shall draw a happy face on my wrist
will rest reflect and tag my mind with beauty two minutes before midnight
06th February and the clock is ticking
France gave America the Statue of Liberty,
In 1865, from Edouard de Laboulaya, his act;
It begot Joan of Arc who insisted that,
Nationality bet religion as a matter of fact.
The Free French were renown in WW II,
For an innate determination which alit,
The will of those sinking around them,
For the democratic heart that was split.
It produced Thomas Piketty with his book Capital,
Which called for a global tax of all richer states,
To redistribute income for egalitarianism,
For freedom and for the poverty liberation straits.
The death of Jihadi John set it all off,
As he was the symbol of the Islamic State,
Most definitely and without reservations,
He was the one with the credal slate.
But France today has an interventionist policy,
In Syria, and is the most vocal nation of all,
Insisting that President Assad needs to go,
To enable free democracy to stand tall.
In 2010 Qatar, an Arab state with oil and gas,
Won the bid to host the 2022 FIFA World Cup;
When a UK government employee questioned this,
In November 2014, he caused a very real hiccup.
France was said to have validated Qatar,
To chief Sepp Blatter who was eventually removed;
I can’t dismiss that Qatar would have reciprocated,
With gifts of money for the French to be proved.
With some of Qatar’s money, flowing and free,
France would’ve strengthened its foreign policy,
Doubled its presence in Syria, or even tripled it,
With the USA and others following likewise - oui.
So the French people’s ability to fight ISIS,
Is important to Syrian Islamists who are fully aware,
That the size of an army determines its success,
Thus Qatar’s allegiances are ISILs concern to beware.
Black hoodie, black gloves and a black balaclava
Allegiances born of belligerent father
A council estate with yards full of tyres
A rucksack that’s laden with tin tacks and wires
Cars outside boozers where loyalist losers
Don’t spot the briefcase with time delay fuses
One man and his neighbour of different persuasions
Soldiers and ministers weighing equations
Each side will tear you apart with their bombs
Some will send ‘letters’ to where you are from
Some cite religion or national pride
Or family honour when taking a side
Orange and green the colours of choice
BBC using an imposter’s voice
Still the news media expresses surprise
When pubs, cars and trucks light up the skies
A town-centre nightclub to which people flock
Across the street came Messrs Browning and Glock
In hands now committed to unleash their guns
They fingered their triggers... and then there were nuns
***
[During ‘The Troubles’ in Northern Ireland, whilst many individuals were targeted due to their religious persuasion, targeted attacks on any particular religious institution were, seemingly, rare. A lengthy chat with Mr Google named two Catholic priests who were deliberately killed, but only one nun who was killed when she happened-on-by a bombing; she remains the only nun killed (albeit inadvertently) because of ‘The Troubles’. ‘And Then There Were Nuns’ simply prompts the question (to which I have no answer) what would a team of gunmen do next if a group of Nuns wandered into their ‘hit’?]
Call Me Marionette:
Today I exist. I exist for no one, for nothing; I exist. I am not held to or defined by a devotion of any. My allegiances, however strong, have no contract to bear me. I dream of a day when my ambition aligns with the desires and necessities of the world. When my head and heart finally join in a magnificent eclipse. For then, I am a scholar, a student, a teacher, a lover. At my fingertips, the world will sit. Where I am the puppeteer, and the world is my marionette. I have the power to change, innovate, and create. I will make a difference. I will grab the sun and spin it on its axis so that no one will carry the burden of wondering if the sun will rise. I will wake at dawn every morning and push the ocean so the tide and the moon can harmonize. There are no bounds to this desire. Though there is no satisfaction in a world like mine. 7.6 billion people live on earth, and I am one. A grain of sand on the beach where I push the ocean. A single molecule on the sun that I carry. I find that I am not strong enough to carry the sun or to push the ocean. I recall a dream I once had, a dream of greatness in a world of inequality and disarray. A foolish thought to have, for I am inconsequential. I am not held to or defined by a devotion of any. I exist for no one, for nothing; I exist. Today I exist.
Lauren Ferraro
Oh! how gems sparkle from glinted morning dew
Wooing your view, amber rays peeking through,
Enamoring jubilation as missives of love I renew
On halo of golden sun inscribing ovations anew
Blushing purple hues, scintillating skyline blue,
Venerating day precious~ my stellar gift for you.
Arrayed in crystal vase are red-roses you adore
Where silken petals gleam, evoking springs of yore,
In bouquet of our memories exulting evermore,
For you are the love-blossoms my passions implore
Titillating heart today, tomorrow, and forever;
Answering my prayer, you’re life’s holy endeavor.
Birds gently awakened you strumming your song
As cadence of my soul, extolling you sings along,
For endearing is the appeal buoyant on your zeal
Soothing me in your bliss, forlorn tears you heal,
My cheerful theme you are, deity of eternal glee,
You are my voice of poetry, exhilarating as can be.
Fabulously shines your smile on splendor of today
As dreams satiated replay waltzing rhythms of ballet
When lyrical praises of lifelong allegiances convey:
You are the guitar my heartbeats ceaselessly play,
You are the harmonics, tunes of symphonies sway
In chorus of heart’s music celebrating your birthday.
September 4, 2021
Poem of the day on September 6, 2021
Placed 3rd: Premium contest--A poem to your spouse
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