Long Ambition Poems
Long Ambition Poems. Below are the most popular long Ambition by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ambition poems by poem length and keyword.
Sir Richard Branson - Rocket Man
There was a boy who had not fared well at school
Years gone by and no one could call him a fool
Now a business tycoon and philanthropist
Virgin records, first venture on his checklist.
The owner of the Virgin Group he became
An entrepreneur with stand out claim to fame
Though it was not always a smooth sailing ride
He took the failures and mishaps in his stride.
Sir Richard Branson, born in nineteen fifty
Dyslexia made school a difficulty
That didn’t stop him chasing his ambition
He was determined to follow his vision.
A star in the making he just would not quit
Nothing and no one would stand in way of this
Each successful venture led to another
Outer space was the quest above all other.
Exploring space travel Sir Richard wished to do
Virgin Galactic has made the dream come true
This year SpaceShipTwo made its first test flight
The six on board had the journey of their life.
Sir Richard’s virtue is a lesson to all
His charitable kindness defines his call
We have to admire this boundless superman
May he continue for as long as he can.
It goes to show however humble life starts
Determination can fly one to the stars.
12th October 2021
O role model, O lover of my health,
Listener to my ambitions,
Help me in my despair and fear,
Or else stave the complications.
The door was open, though it be closed,
And i was energetic with gape,
Intense on learning in acceptance,
The structure and the tape.
Regretting the bet I’d originally had,
With myself, for that insular existence,
I did exit that lift in which i sat,
Adrift in speciality’s persistence.
It was a neat defeat, but i did steer,
My ship away from danger,
And my companion did redirect,
My ambition and my anger.
I lit my light anew, and it did blaze,
For my desires had now been said,
Such that critics avoided an eclipse,
With my dreams on view and read.
18th July 2016
A WAVE OF THOUGHTS
COMING AND GOING
A TIDE OF EMOTIONS
STRONG THEN WEAK
THE SURENDERED
TO THE FACT THAT
IT CANNOT COMPETE
TO MY OVERWELMING
AMBITION OF MY
THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS
AS I TURN TO WALK AWAY
THE SEA SOFTLY WHISPERED
SOMETHING ON MY EAR…
YOUR EYES ARE THE
WINDOWAS TO YOUR SOUL
MY HEART WAS IMMEDIATELY
COUGHT UP IN A WHIRLPOOL –
NOT TO MENTION MY SOUL
HOW CAN THE SEA POSSIBILY
KNOW WHAT MY SOUL NEEDS?
I WOKE UP WITH THE
SUN SHINING BRIGHT UPON ME
IN THAT MOMENT OF CONFUSEMENT
I REACHED FOR MY BIBLE
AND THEN…
MY TEARDROPS STARTED
TO FALL ONTO GODS’S
WORD…
WITH MY HANDS COVERED
IN SALTWATER
AND MY EYES PORTRAYING
THE RED SEA
I HEARD HIS VOICE…
LET ME
RENEW YOUR SOUL
I LIFTED MY
HEAD UP AND
SAID…
THANK YOU
LORD FOR ALWAYS
BEING THERE
FOR ME…
Form:
Hi I’m Kamala, fiery and strong
Whatever I say will never be wrong,
I’m running for President, thought you should know,
Putting myself and my talents on show.
With Biden and Sanders joining the race
I’m inwardly laughing, having to brace,
With my tongue as my sword they haven’t a chance,
I’ll jolt them awake as they seem in a trance.
While I haven’t worked out the fine details just yet,
With policy statements not quite put to bed,
I’m sure they’ll be great, no fear I’ll fall flat
For spinning a tale for me is old hat.
I think I’ll just start with pitching a dream,
Of everything smelling like roses and cream,
But should I be challenged with questions or more,
They won’t know what hit them for I can keep score.
My weapons are many try me and see,
Push me a little and my victim you’ll be,
It’s time for a woman to get this top job,
The Democrats muse, the media’s heart throb.
I may have that thing you can’t explain,
a style brushed with a touch of success;
Still you missed my hard working hands;
When some gave up on me? I pressed on.
Now tell me again why you think it’s ok,
why you have the right to any part of it?
Your lethargic attitude is not entitled to my grit;
I had to work hard for what I have;
Go ahead get defensive, call me names;
Doesn’t alter my history or your lack of;
Champion of ambition and the hustle,
I never follow an unmotivated narrative;
Don’t want the hard way? That’s cool;
What happens if I take a paved road too?
So many women working for their dreams,
the financially stable now wear a target.
Your lethargic attitude is not entitled to my grit;
I had to work hard for what I have;
With equal effort this point would be moot,
yet culture is taking us in another direction;
You can see we have our lives together;
We don’t need saving and can’t save you;
Try to stake a claim on our name?!
You will wind up thrown from the saddle.
Your lethargic attitude is not entitled to my grit;
I had to work hard for what I have.
Besttier's Ballad
gaining a good understanding
rethinking your behavior
to further your ambition
and cause growth and wealth
in your desired area of work
proud stance of individuality
so that those you wish to take
notice of you might do so
to further inspire your growth
and make the time of togetherness
greater and more worthwhile
Resisting The Repression
Competition between a brother and sister
Rendition of an eighties song all about how much he miss her
War of attrition between two countries facing off without a resister
Ambition of an Olympian to only on race day end up with a blister
Loneliness creeping in before twightlight starts to break and linger
Ghostliness of a past love coming back like a harbinger
Cosiness of a warmth so engrained it lasts throughout the winter
Holiness of a man ordained with the essence of God in his little finger
Warning all who sit in comfort to stretch out beyond their horizons
Forming all the combinations but still required to sleep with the lights on
Storming through the degradation of more arguments to be right on
Mourning the loss of innocence as I’m forced to find a corner with which to fight from
Objectification of a woman by a powerful CEO
Rectification of a statement that would never have passed “go”
Unification of a people who they never wanted to know
Stupefaction of a system that is only there for show
Culmination of a problem as we sit behind screens in isolation
Rumination of a mind inclined to introspective observations
Declaration of a manifesto by a twisted mass shooter caught before the devastation
Aberration of the justice system as the innocent go without advocation
Sociopolitical violence everywhere you hate to look
Hypercritical eyes inside my silence as they analyse a new controversial book
Parasitical environmental activists looking for the next media stunt to hook
Neurotypical minds that are inclined to complain and then to sook
Elimination of the pain that resides in each passing new moment
Annotation of the grammar as I consider the next component
Liberation of a race that has lived under the rule of a tyrant
Consideration of all the elements predicting the next inquirement
Lamentation of the time that’s passed while reluctantly convalescing
Fragmentation of a life that’s lost while psychologically regressing
Cancellation of a genius comedian speaking the truth just like confessing
Aberration at this cultural shift as I I’ll be resisting all this repressing
The End Elizabeth Moroz copyright
Social uselessness is a virtue of its own,
Those we cast aside, glance at and then away from quickly,
Lest they notice, and smell our guilt,
Are free to live immodestly,
There being no need for posturing
When one's invisible.
Trees that grow lumpen or misshapen
Are left to live long and go unfelled,
Never to be transformed into pencils and park benches.
They carry on, in love with the sun,
Spreading their arms to embrace the sky
Season upon season;
The children skip over their roots
And lovers loll beneath their boughs,
Their shade relieves the weary,
Their age comforts the old.
No carpenter's ambition
Will ever reach their wondrous hearts,
Then, perforce, transform them.
When they kick you, unwanted
Out of the hospital psych ward,
Your illness not important because you've done
Nothing to make the newspapers,
You can wander like a prophet, complete in yourself
Living your truths without needing an apologist.
So it is with those we look away from,
The odd shapes among us who don't fit our spaces.
There's more to be seen by looking between things
Than can be found by looking straight at them;
The unshaped space around us speaks with an incessant tongue
Interpretable only by the spirit.
So if you really want to slip the blindfold for a change
To see the ones hovering around the fringes,
Start by studying their shadows;
If they should deign to speak,
Listen with your eyes,
If you want to feel them,
Reach deep inside yourself and rub the sore spots
You spend the day denying.
Reflection sustains reality
Like dewdrops on a leaf.
Try to understand this like a lesson and you'll fail,
But accept it without judgement;
It will come to you.
No man finds more truth than he who looks for nothing;
This is writ upon the bark of twisted trees.
Read it, then know what wisdom is.
When I visited
Lagos,
the city
of demigods,
I walked
through the wealthy streets
of Banana Island.
And there
I met
Aliko Dangote.
The richest man
in Africa.
A man
who built mountains
from ambition.
When I looked
into his eyes,
I saw fire.
I saw resolve.
I saw a man
still climbing
after reaching
the summit.
In a gentle voice
he said,
"Nigeria
is a sleeping giant.
And Lagos
is its first step
into destiny."
The city
never sleeps.
The markets
never rest.
The streets
breathe business
day and night.
"If you seek
entrepreneurs,"
he said,
"go to Nigeria."
For in Lagos,
survival comes first.
And survival
teaches wisdom.
The men of Lagos
dream with open eyes.
They build
while others sleep.
They risk
while others fear.
Then Dangote smiled.
And softly said,
"The men of Lagos
understand multiplicity.
They are sleeping lions
beginning to awaken."
I answered,
"Some say
Nigerians are criminals."
His face
grew thoughtful.
Then he replied,
"And what of
the mafias of Italy?
What of those
who rob nations
in daylight
while wearing suits?"
For a moment,
silence spoke.
The kind of silence
that history understands.
The sun
was setting.
And the city lights
began to rise.
Then I knew.
The men of Lagos
are not merely
the future of Nigeria.
They are part
of the future
of Africa.
As we shook hands
and prepared to part,
I said,
"Dangote,
you are the
John D. Rockefeller
of Africa.
The Mansa Musa
of our generation."
He smiled.
And walked away
into the evening.
While Lagos,
restless,
hungry,
and eternal,
continued dreaming
of tomorrow.
Than when he thought of his children
He wondered would this world be a plCe to nuture
Them who wished to procreate
Would those who wished to appear wise
Connect the invsible dots
And create the monster
They wish my xhildren to be
What assurances mind you
That the ambition of others might
Have them foresaked
What America stands before them
The one who might find value in creating a monster
Or the America that wishes non repetition or one
That changes the course to make exa ple and lesson
Of those they wish to apposse
He thought these things when he dated
He thought these things when he married
Consussly and subconcussly
When it easy to make villian of the advocate
The advocates enemies will find reason to opposse
Which these satans have created other satans shall
Agree, what then their is for me
But uncertainty and shame.