Long Badge of honor Poems
Long Badge of honor Poems. Below are the most popular long Badge of honor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Badge of honor poems by poem length and keyword.
“How are you doing?”… (sigh)… “Busy”… we hear and say it all the time
Wearing our busyness as a badge of honor while stuck in the grind
Why are we are always moving like we have somewhere else to be
Perpetually pushing forward as the world swirls under our feet
We constantly craft our calendars only to arrive at those moments
To realize our happiness is still lacking the necessary components
Constantly spinning our wheels without stopping to ask our destination
Maybe it is time to consider updating our mode of transportation
Swapping the future for the present to stop scheduling and lean into today
Savoring the slices of life that are on our plate right now that will soon go away
Realizing that joy already resides closer to home than we think
But make sure to catch it though since it will be gone in a blink
The clanking sound of spurs, the sun’s glare
off the shiny doppelganger derringers.
Her hat tipped onto her sweating brow.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests!”
Her cowhide boots kick up the prairie dust.
She’s not your quintessential grandmother.
Her torrential windpipe words ready for a fight.
“I will be number one! Like it or not!”
She spits tobacco into the air, daring a challenge,
and it drops at the feet of the biggest contest.
“Chew on that one...for a while!”
A patch over one green eye, the jealous one. She wears it
as a badge of honor. No one messes with Lady Cogburn.
Like showing off pictures of her family, she lets a scroll roll loose.
Her adjectives and verbs, nouns and sounds.
“I dare anyone to steal my verse! Who's brave enough
to roll out one of their own!”
She spits and stares them down, as one courageous chick
steps forward and just as quick she lays her low.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Now the rest of you scram!”
Dodge City, the ghost town, has one occupant. She lights her Virginia Slims, lets her poetic smoke circle the air — like vultures.
7/20/2018
Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
The green monster, they are everywhere being worn like a badge of honor. Have you seen them, where did they come from. Could one of them be you, say it is not true. Some say they are only after the green money, they are really after the entire pot of golden honey. Do you need a clue, they are after what belongs to me and you. They take what is not theirs, they have no cares. Hurt and pain they bring, they want to make you sing. What evil they live, never knowing how to give. They will not change, so stay far out of their range. You do not want to catch their evilness, do not turn into their green sickness.
Jealousy is the green monster, this is something to ponder.
Date Written: 6/23/2021
1 Place
A Brian Strand you choose Contest Judged: 8/12/2021
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I’m Linwood’s daughter
I still carry his last name
Like a badge of honor
Despite the purple pain
Knowing him was an honor
Despite all the hard truths
As a precious poet who ponders
Despite amethyst child abuse
But I prefer to be as a sifter
Letting the darkness fall away
For now he’s with Big Dipper
And his memory in me safe
I focus on the good things
I’m lucky to have this view
He taught me to denim dream
Plan execute and follow through
He wasn’t a shy man at all
His smile and laugh was sun
He had the stance and walk
Natural of a confident one
He wasn’t a tall man yet
Personality filled the room
He was a chemist the best
Ahead of his time like a bloom
Like a flower in the winter
He managed to grow anyway
Racism hard times didn’t hinder
Creative father at 18 born in May
He was naturally neon funny
Could lift your spirits high
He always earned his money
And carried hisself with pride
My dad was an optimistic hero
I could always talk to him too
As I look out the past’s window
I see his eyes in the mellow moon
I see him as an arch angel now
For he was a champion on earth
His smile was a cure for frown
His love was as holy as church
I am Linwood’s daughter
Just like this vessel, we all bear
Marks of struggle, signs of wear.
But beneath the surface, deep within
Lies the essence of who we have been.
Like a glass that has fallen
And shattered upon the floor.
You gather together its pieces
And hope it can be restored.
A jigsaw puzzle, a mosaic of colors.
Carefully rebuilt, one part against another.
Showing the beauty that creativity can weild.
Love the glue with which it is held.
All its flaws and imperfections
Make it even better.
You can only create diamonds
With extreme heat and pressure.
We like this vessel all have our scars.
Our traumas and experiences, uniquely ours.
We all are broken in one way or another.
It's what's inside the vessel we need to discover.
So let us embrace our cracks and dents.
For they are the marks of life's events.
Each one is a memory of a lesson learned.
Each one a badge of honor we have earned.
Our flaws the colors that paint our designs.
Don't be ashamed,
we all have cracks.
Yours are just different from mine.
She became a symbols of American pride,
as she made her run down the tracks.
Those big drivers turning eight wheels
and smoke pouring from her stack.
Pulling cars from Chicago to Memphis,
on across that Delta Land,
running down to Baton Rouge and over to the Gulf Coast sands.
She saw the Yellow Dog run where the Southern Cross the Dog
ate shrimp in New Orleans and ribs from a Kansas City hog
She pulled corn out of Illinois and a load of wheat to sell
Rumble on down to Mississippi on the Monday Morning Rail
The engineer, with his hand on the whistle,
keeping the train on time.
His schedule became a badge of honor,
As he ran the railroad line.
He rolled through village and town
then turned the throttle loose,
A hundred tons of solid steel, a
hundred cars and a caboose.
She was called “the future of America,”
Before the diesel took her place.
She kept her date with destiny and lost
In the final race.
History has told the story of an era
that has come and gone,
A hundred years of running the rail,
the steam engine has sung her song.
Down from the mountains to the north,
Came a soldier, born and bred,
Seeking food and shelter,
And a warm and comfy bed.
His was a life of hardship.
It showed upon his face,
And in his eyes there gleamed a will,
That fear could not erase.
He'd battle scars a-many.
He bore them, wore them proud,
As signs, a badge of honor.
That no shame could becloud.
He was a soldier, tried and true,
Who stood strong with his brothers,
And fought for God and country,
Kept the enemy from our borders.
A stranger now he felt alone,
He was so tired, so weary.
All he wanted now was home,
And to be treated fairly.
The wind whipped 'round his shoulders,
As he stopped beside the door.
And as he walked into the room,
It felt same as before.
He took note of his surroundings,
As is a soldier's wont.
He felt their stares as he approached,
And waited for some taunt.
A chill that never rode a wind,
Gripped him as he waited,
Till someone offered him a seat,
And the chill abated.
This was the home he'd left behind,
To fight for and defend.
It felt so good to be home at last,
With family and friends.
I guess this had to be said
The root causes for the way
I am kept awake at night
Summer heat no sleep
My only companions are
Past events and the opinions
My soul resents.
I guess it had to be felt
Every reflection and failure
To society, my appearance must
Be on point and tailored
To meet another’s expectations
My soul craves approval like
Success and celebrations emotional
Rollercoasters to ride on certain occasions
As a man fear becomes unacceptable you must
Be the brave one.
I guess this had to be heard Oh, sorry say that again?
I can’t hear you. My soul then becomes numb misunderstood
Makes you feel dumb because you must be the only one when
The second or third comments speak up son. Damn it another crack collateral
fracture to move forward must move faster to escape the disaster
in my life oh well, time to backtrack.
On the bicycle of this thing called my life, I fell off way too many times the bumps and bumps and bruises become a badge of honor look how bright they shine. So how do I heal as I deal with how the pain festers when the scabs of old wounds peel. I heard my brother say toughen up like the Navy Seals. For him, my heart is cold like steel stories I retold myself based on events half real.
I guess this had to be seen the rumors about me are not true I am not really mean
Although I do get mad and half the time I don’t know the words to describe how I feel. Your insults don’t hurt me I devour them like three-course meals. Lets talk about what’s really on this brain how lies were sold and how this soul growing up in the modern education system studied long-term and was short-changed but I guess the was all part of the plot to teach base on rigged curriculums and whether I learned or not teachers still got paid at the end the day.
I guess this had to be sensed since every human I ever crossed paths with subconsciously convinced that parts of my soul do not fit into the mainstream
No one left to pick up the pieces so forget about seeing the bigger picture when the vision is blurry.
By George P. Lumayag
https://georgelumayag.weebly.com
The Super Snow Moon lighted our bleeding hearts,
That we’re staging the National Arts Month in February;
It reminded us to the king like the powerful wolf
Who defaced the rules of artistry
That he butted his unverified thoughts
To the heroine’s genuine and overconfident performances of art
That surpassed beyond a national badge of honor.
Aunor’s highly praised body of work inspires us
And her humble legendary origin conquers the borders
Of music, television, film and theater.
In our digital age, her extraordinary achievements
In various international film festivals crown her
As world-class actress.
Her artistic and brilliant talents exceeded the elements
Of being the National Artist,
But a thunder and lightning of judgment
Seemed like a twist from a daylight to Super Blood Wolf Moon Eclipse,
That disgraced the discretionary power of the king,
Who included undesirable factors other than artistry
And unceremoniously deleted her honor.
The resounding assertions of the noble souls
May have figuratively incarnated the national icon,
May have patriotically penned Nora Aunor’s magnificent works,
And may have glorified back the artistic contributions of a genius,
Who shall have been lionized for being...
The people’s National Artist!
What breed is this?
Sage or Lunatic,
Chess-Piece or Bard.
Do they see silver in the bloodstream,
hearts pumping hard.
Turning lead to gold.
Re-frabricating a life lived hard.
Pieces of eight, to pay for a life of piracy?
Or innocense stolen, seeking equilibrium and sanity?
Do they have knowledge to pass on,
an altruism
of animal, magnetism,
a charged badge of honor, crested in heart,
emboldened home-sheath, sleeve to cry,
then hone your metal upon.
What propels them on?
Is it the real Olympus, clear,_- Mountain Dew?
Atlantis estranged in Camelot, pouring rivers by the light of the moon?
What propels,
which witch is the spark?
Is it one of Union and Love.
Or did they lose the game
and menace for vengeant troves, of the dark.
Do they Familiar the con of silver,
alchemy,
mesmerism for the greedy?
I want to believe they are rivulets caroming
among the needy.
So I wonder.
Do they speak in a different tongue?
One that reaches out like a serpent,
feeling for the vermilion colored heat under the Son.
It is true, one is the saddest thing.
Reach out, it is the Festival Season
starring a Carnival of Souls.
Stars, not so far out.
North shining to a ship of fools.
Saints and Angels,
under the sleeve of the Triune One.
Of this I have no doubt.