Long Assumption Poems
Long Assumption Poems. Below are the most popular long Assumption by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Assumption poems by poem length and keyword.
The teachers and staff at the special school, Graysmill,
Did what they could to give the severes a life afterwards,
And they presumed I would be accepted to work,
At the CALL Centre of Edinburgh University, for a long time to lurk.
It’s now CALL Scotland, and researches special tech,
Develops assistive software, devices, and communication aids;
It digitalise written exams energetically and with voice,
For disabled kids who need to have their own writing choice.
But I went to Daniel Stewarts nursery, was well accepted, superior,
As I came top of the class for both words and numbers,
And as it is a top private school near Edinburgh’s city centre,
I found the sympathy hard at Graysmill ‘cos I was not inferior.
In the 70s and 80s they thought the special pupils couldn’t interact,
In mainstream schools where the able-bodied were understood;
Most of my friends had a dislike of normal, ordinary kids,
And didn’t understand my perceptions of relationality and brotherhood.
So as it was sometimes an effort for me to be part of the school,
And I just wanted to walk away from all things disabled or impaired,
The moment I started university where opportunity beckoned,
Where my intentions and abilities could be so aired.
I wanted to maybe be a software engineer for organisations,
But knew I couldn’t type all day every day with my foot,
So after uni got a part-time job at the CALL Centre, but felt self-defeated,
‘Cos I'd had blows with my parents about my own mechanism of input.
I did home computing growing up using my hands on the keyboard,
But did my school and homework with my foot, not good,
And since they wanted me to go to university, no big deal,
They forced me to keep using the faster mechanism, the switch for my foot.
So I resented the CALL Centre right throughout my young years,
For not believing or ingratiating me when I told them of my hand dexterity,
And as a graduate able to deliberate upon my case of disrespect,
I can say that my parents should have certainly been certified for neglect.
I did not renew my contract with the Call, was only for four months,
As I didn’t want to put myself through that close contact and innocence assumption,
But think that they do an note-worthy job for severely disabled kids,
And that my case was an exception to their loving, kind gumption.
The Search to Find the Edge of the Ice
They say moss doesn't gather on a stone rolling, in motion,
And even wise algae gets left in the wake,
Of a proud ship, foresail dipped, rising upon an ocean,
Yet what of the movement of cold, blued, polar ice,
Where humanity has no known device,
That can truly assess each crevasse like a human eye,
Not wafting past, digitising from way up high,
But the eye picking out subtle changes,
The sense of touch, of feeling crumbling, matters much,
And no satellite can be quite right as the human nose,
Smelling fauna, or the stench of rotting, dead plants or fish,
For ice recedes its movement gathers stones,
But it reveals things, that satellites alone,
Can never bring to assess, without assumption in that process,
And so a legend of arctic exploration abandons long treks,
Or climbing mountains, and not due to getting older,
Indeed using boats for a landlubber is getting bolder,
Taking stock of the after shock,
The Northwest passage laid out, like a virgin on a wedding night,
Internally sobbing for the state our world is in,
For there was no ice, not even enough for a consoling gin,
The long march of humanity's future discontent,
Requires assessment, a global response to a new war cry,
Come Europe, Come China, Come India, Come America,
Come hear the cry of the Canadian northwest,
Of the fears of Greenland becoming a new forest,
Come Australasia, Russia too, come all countries, much to do,
For we must rise to assess the circumstance of the ice regress,
To prevent surprise, loss of our world's bequest,
And pushing forward the advance guard of this new challenge,
Is Sir David's team, the polar ocean phalanx,
Not sat around at home in comfy armchairs,
But doing something, going somewhere, to show we care,
Seeking to find and monitor and report back,
Crucial knowledge that currently we lack,
For how can we plan to avoid our worlds future sorrows,
If we do not make an effort to find out for our tomorrow,
Where exactly is the edge of the ice, which today no device,
Can show in a way that all of human kind can know,
Does the ice recede or simply ebb and flow,
Stand up, man up, pay up, support them,
Lets see them depart and sail,
To find this century’s holy grail,
The search to find ‘The Edge of the Ice’.
@Andrew Carnegie, Challenged in Wiltshire, Jan 12th 2017.
Whenever im in public with my nephew
A generation of atleast a decade older than my current
Observe as Im flushed with hapiness
They see the bond between me and this child
As we hold hands tightly
So delicate
Dare to disturb the nucleus of the interlocked hands
As if a proton has been displaced
From its locus
Going off like a nuclear bomb
A cry of a child
They see the resemblence
As young as I am
Its inevitable to stop and ask
Is this your child
Such a cute boy they add
I look at them with resentment
One eye brow raised above the other
Not to be disrespectful but what the hell
I take a second glance
Not to the woman standing next to the man asking such a disturbing question
But to myself
I mean
im not thin
Im far from being thick
But then again my hips are not the child bearing hips that my biology text book describes
With these hips i would have probably died giving birth
On a different day, hour, second of the same week
I met a certain individual in a store
Made the same assumption about the child
Rolled my eyes
Said no
My nephew
Sorry he said
Annoyed!
But you know kids these days he pointed out
The man has a point
It came to me in a form of an epiphany
Why are kids having kids
Somebody call the paramedic
Cause this is an emergency
But if I dont sleep with him he will leave me
I dont want him to cheat
I know im ready
Im the only virgin in my circle of friends
I just wanna get over with
9 months later ur friends and him turn their backs on u
U run to the people you call mom and dad
Raised u in a christian household
Tattooed it all over your forehead
That No sex before marriage
Knowing the pains and problems that come with life
U decide to wipe it off with ignorance and selfish desires
Let me digress a bit
I cannot understand
And yet not fully comprehend why as kids we choose to please our friends
Over our parents will
Our parents hands speak in volumes
Every scratch and every bruise tell a story
About the times life hit them in the guts
And reminded their lungs of how much they like the taste of air
Our parents are our living ancestors
We can learn a lot from them
Girls stop selling your soul
In exchange of cheap love and affection
This is your life
You only get to do it once
Do it right
The last trailing tendril filaments
of moon beams nocturnally trace
fashion an illusory gilded chariot Ark,
whence upon celestial runners,
the approach of dawn's early light
illuminated terrestrial space
which nebulous solar city flanges
revisited since time millennial
hubbub of human race
nsync with Zodiacal constellations,
which appear to shift
as planet Earth axis place
alternated in accordance with
inexplicable universal teenage
mutant Ninja turtles joint pact
with power rangers assumption
sans quotidian playstation remotely
controlled by aliens upon
oblate spheroid figurative stage
set whence commencement nudged
village people foment quiet riot rage
and rant against
uncontrollable catastrophic frenzy,
when cosmic creator
rehearses another page
from playbook, which
color coded cobbled Bible
emanates with radiant hues
of yellow and osage
nonetheless, no mortal adept to predict
(only within plus and/or minus
some marginal variance of error).
oft times punishing atmospheric phenomena
incarcerated, pistol whipped
(if anther incorrect),
whiplash unleashed, oppressed, imposed
challenging condition testing ground
flora and fauna could thrive,
whereat most hardy
plants and animals didst abound
linkedin upon terra firmae
murmur of orchestrated
organisms devising fitting
evolutionary survival traits
plentiful glory vis a vis L'Chaim;
gnome hatter outlook required
sprinting thru uber vanguard,
where zero sum game pitted
disadvantaged Feng shui
living things poorly sparred mismatched
against itching attired egghead,
kickstarting netzero beastie boys
indeed emulating hotmail prodigies
holding greensward ground.
scrimmage fostered, elicited,
dictated, commandeered nature
going full throttle with pings
across biological labyrinth
positioning glommed, peeved,
mis tweeted seeds of life, and white lily,
within soil lent green grubby business
whereby herb and woody stemmed
recalcitrant proto flings
wrote toe rooter bakers
gave Gaia a run for her money
to buy Buffalo wings
chasing miscreants nimbly
outwitting, out-rigging
outsmarting nettlesome stings,
and sage protuberant fungi,
released messengers where rise home
spore ports left nada mushroom,
though symbiosis wood
bark a roll a cord.
"Never been this eager to earn
Even a single layer of ahead expectations
Murmurs between excellence and failures
Impels me to be bordered with lots of agitation,
Mind clouded of disparate thoughts
Never wanted to casted me off
People might see me as persistence as carabao, maybe the other way around.
Dressed up with silence
So no one would know
I'm in abyss of predicaments
Might see me smiling as if everything
Is as fine as the weather
But the the truth
The real me is gradually getting wither
Up till now bearing their enormous displeasing judgement.
Kept telling them, "I'm like a battery
Expect me to be drained that easily."
Happy to explore more things
Without hesitation developed me
To be as good as I should to be
My parents never put me in any pressure
It's just me that wants everything to be Rest-assured in any situation
Luckily, I experienced having good leisure.
Left with no choice
but let myself be immersed
In a little hope of favorable assumption
Hoping they wouldn't desert me
When they saw me repeatedly stumbled
In an outlandish area of discarded matters.
Failures made me pour thousands of tears
Heart multiple be set in tear
Swollen eyes never dare to appear
Here, and there, piled up of tasks to bear
Snap out of reverie
Must get up and be ready
This is life and a part of my journey.
Countless times, lend a hand
But it makes me a little weary
Little by little declining became my hobby. Engrossed by thought it would only set for Temporary. All of a sudden,
Consumed me consistently.
Time flies as swift as cockroaches
Submission of pieces
Bit by bit approaches
There, you are trembling with nervousness.
This isn't time for some playfulness.
Left with no choices.
Submit it or lose the chance of getting high grades. As they begin to close
The gates of chances.
Thyself culminates to fall into
Hopelessness.
Subject that became a big defilement, Disappointment follow in an alignment Sometimes its really hard to pursue some happiness. Knowing,
It might only produced gloominess.
Competition became excessive
As the real qualities
Stirred to be aggressive.
One another, getting drowned
Into depts of the ground.
Where the high precious number
Could be found."
What does it mean to you
to be loved
right here
where you live and breathe,
eat and occasionally shower?
What value would you give
our investments of mutual regard?
Do you know
you can love
and be loved
for and as who you are right now?
And for that sainted sinner
you inevitably will become,
and for all those you have been
since first I laid eyes on you,
and smelled you,
and listened for your still small
and large voices.
Love cannot be reduced
and confined
to just one tense,
or even two
with those we are committed to
and for;
And best spreads across
all four seasons
of sacred change.
Love is limited
only by mistrusting imagination,
WinLose dissonant assumption,
reductions of sacred organic integrity
to secular strategic mendacity,
deducted images distancing us
confining what I know and feel
for you and us up to now,
Not disregarding
or over-valuing
past and potential future
wealth for what feels safe for us today
to believe and hope,
our reviving health
tomorrow.
When winters hand out plastic bottled lemon juice
and grieving onions
too long endured,
I would like to trade some for limes
and grateful southern summer garlic
if you have those
to share.
Together
we might make lemon-lime local aid
and add community's basic bullion
for regenerate harvest
building stone multiculturing soup,
green vegetarian
and redmeat simmering stews.
When life hands us lemons
and FixIt unpeeling onions
Earth invites rebirthing us
to re-imagine all four seasons
and three tenses together
our re-creolizing cacophany
with restoring beverage
of healthy re-changing choice
for loving peace as resilient ecojustice.
Love of who and what,
when and where,
and why until just us again,
revisiting community polycultural outdoor worship
during summer health climax
And on through fall harvest,
and yet another inevitable winterish lemon
of creolizing discontent,
stuck inside
liturgical long-range extended family garden planning
plotting sun and water worshiping community love redevelopment,
global song and dance sacred restoration,
healthy-wealth of peace
As integrity of love
for WinWin organic choices
changing four-seasons from above
as below,
without
as within.
Blowing out the light of another had the same effect on mine
For nothing could deter my mind away from that gruesome thought
Coming home brought me closer to what I wished to leave behind
Funny how something can worth less than what it actually cost
I was sickened by the act I had committed
Though the deed was done with the purest intent
My return home added to my disgust though I refused to admit it
To the smiling faces who thought me to be Godsent
My loved ones was overjoyed that all was well with me
A thankful gleam in their eyes as they led me to the house
But all I could seem to think about was that other family
Lighting hundreds of candles for the one I had helped burn out
It was at that celebration held in honor of me that night
That I finally found what I sought upon going to war
To see people praising me for what they concluded was right
Is the very reason we will never achieve what we so dilligently fight for
We are convinced threats to our safety lies in foreign countries
Which is by far a misguided assumption in itself
For in order to rid the world of terrorism in its entirety
Is to collectively discard the half of one's own self
It was a harsh realization as a matter of fact
And one that I hoped had not come so late
But there was no way I could ever give back
The very thing my duty left me feeling inclined to take
My epiphony weighed every bit of heavy on the mind
So I bowed my head to the floor stained with dirt
And I silently prayed that the healing powers of time
Would someday mend the hearts of those I knew I had hurt
I asked forgiveness for the lot of the world
For my unjust actions and my many sins
But specifically from that little boy or little girl
Who wishes daily for their parent to come home again
A tear slid down my wind whipped cheek
At knowing that the satisfaction I so long ago sought
Would not grant my consciene the peace it so desperately need
A lesson that took ages to prepare but in a heartbeat was taught
My soul had grown weary of the evening and it showed on my face
So I bid farewell to the guest as I took my leave
And I went where war was more suitable to take place
To my empty house where I was left only with my memories
The red-bellied woodpeckers
and wood thrushes of Central Park ...
hanging in majestic oaks
and shady dogwood trees,
woke up early to greet
the glowing sun from the East,
and unable to speak
in the human voice...
they used their melodies
to send us this message,
"There's sorrow lingering
in the September warm air;
summer is ending
and fading out
like a distant star;
from a short distance
tragedy will strike
to shake everyone up
with horrendous fright...
death mocks life
with a foul laugh!"
When peace dominated over
the still and peaceful
New York Harbor,
Manhattan found itself under
clouds of debris and dust
and the stifling,black smoke
could be seen from each County...
to dispel the wrong assumption
that it was the safest city!...
And this act of terror
stirred up much contention
to have struck it so unvaliantly!
Manhattan under dusty clouds,
never before we heard anguish in voices...
as fighfighters raised the American flag
on a pile of smoking rubble:
they were so courageous and didn't tremble...
what was so pretty,looked so sad!
Those swelling and blacks clouds
haven't vanished yet
in the drifting winds,
they are stil rising...
unable to be forgotten
and many would have given
their own lives to prevent
all that from happening!
We silently stood there so helpless,
crying and praying even for the strangers
who couldn't fight
the smoke and flames
and live to tell their story,
which others will write
for their country to be read aloud,
but many will relive that tragedy!
Manhattan under dusty clouds,
the greatest city under siege...
putting away its prestige,
but calling out to the Nation
not to resist the deed of mortification
and become vulnerable to more attacks!
Manhattan under dusty clouds
in a month when daffodils and lilacs
made it beautiful...waving in grassy meadows,
forcing the broken spirit
to leave that spendid Paradise
and face a crude reality and weep!
Manhattan under dusty clouds,
but the flag still waves with pride,
and anyone counting its stars
knows that they are intrepid...
truly inseparable by those
sharing the same fate and beliefs!
As men we aspire to perfection
The slim sliver of impossible
which lies between infallibility
and the outskirts of non existence,
Searching for its proof for the mere
chance at having it define us,
For other adjectives have become
beneath us in our own evolution
Thus we strive for a deity's temperament
and assume equality with unseen irony
Disregarding humility, nobility, desirable
work ethic, and other essential virtues,
For each becomes viewed as inferior
to the extravagant identity we have stolen,
While conventional attributes such as pride
and confidence are escalated to frailties
Too ignorant on our quest for best,
to notice the change of our views,
As visions of tomorrow become
stepping stones to a more myopic sight,
Belittling the very allure of being mortal,
by denying ourselves wisdom through experience,
For no future mistakes means no future period
which condemns us to our present self,
In retrospect, which reiterates the ironic
truth of the entire self perceived perfection,
Our only perfection is our constant evolution,
as it was at birth, it shall be through death,
The continuous cycle of ignorance to knowledge,
For if man does find the treasure of this desire,
Man will still be man and nothing more,
With only the potential of failure as motivation,
Thus, abandoning the sweet taste of accomplishment,
the soft touch of achievement will be never more,
For perfection has only itself to aspire to,
and only its inevitable demise to be a last sight,
A demise that happens at the moment of assumption,
For to be perfect is to be flawed temporarily,
A fact that holds true even to the assumed perfect
which is unseen to him, thus ending his identity,
Therefore, he who holds himself as infallible,
Disregards hope, Disregards logic,
Disregards truth, disregards companionship,
Abandoning his mortal life to become excluded,
Selling his realization of humanity for the price
of a label that will never be proven to others,
Watching us live a life he wants, but still has,
Unable to see his flaws, he has become less than all,
Thus the "perfect" person, lives in perfect misery
ASSUMPTION, PRESUMPTION , GUMPTION
I don’t enjoy been on a plane,
I find it scary and a tad mundane,
But last time I flew,
I sat next to a lady I slightly knew,
I was bored and wanted to play a silly game!
It was the same lady who lived across the street,
Her sandals were shoddy and she had ugly feet,
Her face looked bloated, red and big,
And every day she wore a new wig,
I thought she was also perhaps an adulteress,
A cheat!
I noticed that she ordered a stiff brandy,
She’s having an affair, she’s used to being randy,
Truly how could this lady attract a husband
And lover,
She was clearly quite plain,
What did either of them have to gain,
Even her hair was mousy brown and sandy!
We started chatting about this and that,
And told me she was on diet for she felt fat,
I’m no professor but have two degrees,
So noticed she spoke with intellectual ease,
I felt bad at what I thought earlier,
My thoughts had to somehow retract!
She was CEO of a well know airline,
But sadly had cancer of the spine,
Which she was hoping to beat
The cancer had also spread to her feet,
She could only wear sandals, I knew then
I was out of line!
I wanted to make her feel good,
My thoughts weren’t nice, that is plainly understood,
I invited her to join us on our luxury liner,
For as long as she liked, she was also a deep
Sea diver,
We became best of friends, and pleased her,
As only a friend could.
It turned out that the man I saw going
In and out of her house,
Was her brother, so she didn’t cheat.
On her spouse,
In fact they were about to repeat their vows,
Underneath the boughs,
Of an old oak tree and a river on which
They had a boathouse.
Elsie got better, thank God,
Both she and I thanked Him, He was
Our rod,
I was really lucky to have found
Such a genuine friend high up, off the ground,
We both lived by the sea, had a picnic,
And watched the whales, a huge pod!
I have now learnt not to make any
Hasty assumption,
But to have gumption,
For I was horribly wrong,
I had come a long
Way, since that day on the plane, not to
Make any hurried presumption!