Long Attorney Poems
Long Attorney Poems. Below are the most popular long Attorney by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Attorney poems by poem length and keyword.
OFFICER,
I dress in black because
colors don't work for me,
and I wear my mask in public
to keep my privacy.
There's no privacy in public
unless you make it clear,
so I lawfully create my own
whenever I'm out here.
I wear a body cam
so everything stays straight,
for truth, foe accountability,
for anyone I may face.
I've committed no crime
so my ID stays with me,
and I don't consent to searches or seizure
of my person or my property.
Thanks to Attorney Shield
my lawyer soon will be
right on my phone's screen
standing by to speak for me.
So Officer, respectfully,
Here's how I'd like to proceed:
Anything you have to say to me,
Please address to my attorney.
My Person
I can't wait for the day
When my Person
Get me
Like he asks
Hey, how was your day ?
Saying all kinds of things
I like him to say
Compliments I dig those
Be my man
Let it show
I want that real glow
The butterflies ??
By my boy
Ooooohh you give me joy
I love conversing
With my Person
He gets me
He knows
The love he has for me
It shows
When I get good news
You are the first one I call
You like my personal attorney
You know it all
I trust you , you trust me
That's how it's supposed to be
Late talks
Night walks
We fell for each other
Who was at fault
When feelings are caught
And they feel right
We feel all cheesy
When we in each other sight
I love conversing
With my Person
He gets me
He knows
The love he has for me
It shows
Hook
I cant hide it
And neither can you
My Person, make me feel brand new
(Repeat 1x)
I love conversing
With my Person
He gets me
He knows
The love he has for me
It shows
(Repeat until chorus fades )
Written by Concetta Hardnett
08/20/2025
(A repost from 2019)
My favorite aunt is dying.. cancer, quiet and consuming as a flame..
Seven short weeks ago she was easily doing an hour of step aerobics, unaware of this intruder, this murderer within. Now she's lifted from bed like a rag doll.
She is my mom, well, a near twin—only smaller, funnier, serpent sly, more heavenly childish, sapient with sweet attractive grace and modest pride.
I am in total awe of her. We're kindred spirits, two sillies among the dull and endlessly serious.
I feel her, see her, day by day, slipping away like the hastening angel of heaven foretold.
This is too big for me, too awful and too close.
I am struck helpless, nothing moves, I sit, hardly feeling, and watch her sleep. Death's cruel process suddenly made visible.
I silently rage at the loss of it—my loudest vehemence pointed to this ravenous, lurking enemy pursuing her inwardly like a swarm of deadly hornets accidentally composed.
40 and still stunningly beautiful, she lies surrounded by computers, iPads, phones, faxes, intercoms, notepads, friends and care-givers. Her life reduced to escaping pain and making arrangements for her soon to be orphaned children 4 and 6.
Fentanyl and other pain blockers are her nourishment and seem to work better in the daylight as lawyers garner powers of attorney, bankers conjure trusts and estate planners build foundations to protect small children from a mothers loss.
As if they could replace a single hug
.
.
Songs for this (gospel):
Order My Steps by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
Angel by Sarah McLachlan
Jesus Loves Me by Whitney Houston
I've been a vegetarian since 1999, so I don't know why I write poems like this.
The Lion and the Lamb
Lamb said, "Violence is not the way of God."
Lion said to Lamb, "That's odd"
(and I quote verbatim)
just before he ate 'im.
Lion's Face Splattered Across the Front Page
Lion was out on parole
when he saw a Gazelle and ate him whole.
His attorney apologized for the pain
and would carefully explain
that the jungle king would plead insane,
but the jury found he was not insane, but droll
when he said he should've topped him with a jelly roll.
Carnivore Herbivore Dialog
The carnivore spoke, "I eat animals raw,
according to the jungle law".
The herbivore replied, "I won't even try it,
I observe a strictly vegan diet",
as he proceeded to gently chew
a burger of mushrooms and tofu.
The predator ate him in one gulp and said,
"I prefer my dinner to be grass fed".
You came from Jamaica
a lowly migrant climbing
into my window sending
me threats terrifying
terrorizing my children
shooting in my home
for my American poetry
devastating you held on
to my abusive ex husband
your gunman my hitman
killed at my feet just in
the nick of time I fled for
my very life domestic violence
survivor how dare you arrive
the anniversary of of the
murder of Rasta yago
Andrew seeking my new
poems my new husband
hissing at my window assault
rifle pointed at my window
severe traumatic events
hurricanes I sit still writing I
am Gwendolyn Brooks
I am Maya Angelo I am me
I matter take your knee off
my neck you cannot extort
my American poetry extort
my identity nor extort my life
and inherit my death I thank
God every single day for
Charlie Crist the attorney
general offices for helping
my family relocate after
your violent attempt on my
life your Jamaican gang Henry
I survived your saint James
massacre as I still write
God loves me no matter your
threats bullying home invasions
hacking cyber bullying ransomeware
stop threatening my life stop
bullying you are a my assassin
a twisted terrorist in a skirt
leaving blood everywhere
I Am American
Kissed and betrayed by one of his own disciples,
Captured and arrested at the Garden of Gethsemane,
Rushed off in the darkness of night as his disciples scattered,
Led away worst than a common criminal to a Kangaroo court,
He was all alone without rules or rights, counsel or attorney at law.
With or without representation, his outcome of guilt was predictable.
His words of defense were non-existent because his time had come to die.
The total words that Jesus spoke were few, but his love for us was huge.
04092019PoSoupContest, Premiere Poetry Contest April 2019 Premier 3, Any Form, Any Theme, Up to A Max Of 8(E I G H T ) Lines Poetry Contest Brain Strand
Be mine, oh please, love my heart, soul and gut
Your meanness is sexy, my darling ____
Oh, my dear AG
Turn your fury on me
Scream insults at me as I swat your _____
by Robert Gorelick
Rants and raves at congress, she’s domineering
Attorney General’s reputation smearing
Unlike humble Ghandi
She's Mean-Girl Bondi
A maniac, hard-hearted and hard-of-hearing
by I Am Anaya
Happy Valentine's Day!
2/14/26
With accompaniment of rain, the tweets pour into my ear.
Saturation of sound, mottled bark and sodden moss.
Must be the downfall of civilization, heavens tears.
In God’s house, psalm’s blessing; outside, purging the dross.
Hues of watercolor diffuse, darkness rippling on wet canvas.
There is beauty in mankind, to read between lines of tension.
Push and pull of dripping thoughts, the undertow madness.
A leviathan of sin’s proportions, the levity and dimension.
You can’t escape the weather, its steady beat above the brow.
The sweat beads seeping, harrowing adventures of sound.
Inspecting inside and outside of self - what seeds to sow.
Don’t be too hard on yourself, though you nearly drowned.
Floating alone in a boat, the sea takes me on a journey.
It is dark and lonely, the slip and slide, the ebb and flow.
Comes walking on the water; appears, heaven’s attorney.
Suddenly I’m on dry land, head bowed, to my knees, I go.
Christ reigns. The closer we are to his gates, we long to serve
Him only, yet we still stomp in muddy puddles with bare feet.
We can hide our feet in socks, in rain boots, hide their curves.
The Lord washes feet, cleanses with His Word ‘til we’re complete.
847.
The Legend of my 7th Job
After Assumption School I had
My 7th Job I prayed to God
In March 6, birthday of the father of me
I applied for a job to our Mayor Attorney
In March 7, birthday of Sandro Marcos my love
I submitted my PDS to the office of the above
In March 10, I started a Novena to St. Joseph the Worker
I prayed for my 7th Job sooner or later
In March 16, Magellan's discovery of our country
I had my biometrics in the LGU of our municipality
In March 20, St. Joseph's Feast Day celebration
I started my 7th Job after a long, long vacation
This is the legend of my 7th Job
A job I hope no one from me can rob.
-04/07/2023
(Dumarao)
*Good Friday
I hear Donald Trump
would love to bring to Republican plutocracy
what Abraham Lincoln presidented
for uncivilly warring democracy,
but Lincoln's emancipation proclamation
doesn't sound like straight white might
is rightly winged
in not so healthy presidential TrumpLand.
What remains most easily to see,
transparently white
privileged to me,
is Donald Trump
as a Ronald Reagan no fun rerun,
a bit of white-faced black
and mostly relentlessly caste
as racism already past,
although not really
quite.
Perhaps if Ronald
had been born as comfortably
as Donald,
then he too would never have worked with his body,
and not so much played with his little lonely hands,
to make an honest LincolnHouse living.
Unlike Donald,
Ronald actually had experience
working for his mortgage.
Well, almost anyway.
Ronald at least had to act as if he could work to make a living,
and on occasion actually remember some honest lines on cue,
while Donald invests more in privilege grabbing gestures
against at least half of our more newly enfranchised
resident population.
And, Abe had some adolescent and young adult experience
with manual labor
and cooperatively owned an attorney at lawyering business,
while for Ronald,
and televised Donald,
these were acting privileged caste-ing skills
as comforting as heroic horseback riding
without a solid saddle
or respectful rein.
So, no, Donald,
you're no Abe Lincoln,
and only in your happiest imagination
are you as good at play acting President
as was "caste-blind"
and deaf
and unwise Ronald.
You're just another ornery autocratic Donald,
not even economically effective
at playing sustainably wealthy Republican.
Perhaps Attila the Hun
is a more logical progenitive inspiration for TrumPublicans,
with Donald playing their final post climate-trauma non-action;
most un-ecologically anachronistic
to employ white overlooking black not quite film stars
with patriarchal red stripes
when so much polyamorous full-color talent
waits in more multiculturally fresh-aired green
bicamerally intelligent wings
of healthy democracy.