Long Blatant Poems
Long Blatant Poems. Below are the most popular long Blatant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blatant poems by poem length and keyword.
We send our children to school
Expecting the teacher to love them.
The kindergarten teachers are great at this.
Practically each and every one of them.
But what if your child gets the one bad apple in the state?
A teacher who uses sarcasm and meanness?
Who does not let them use scissors or glue?
Who lectures all day while they sit still like Stepford wives?
Who chastises the ones who fall asleep due to her blatant meanness?
What if your child gets the teacher everyone has tried to get out for the past ten years?
What if the principal tells you it is hopeless?
What if your child’s light begins to fade?
What would you do?
We moved to another state at the semester
But by then it was too late.
She hated school.
Just like the teacher.
“Give me just a bit more time; stay a little while,
Just until the sun goes down; give me just one smile”,
You kept it hid behind those eyes, your intentions and your plans,
You had something else in mind as we walked along the sands,
I could feel just one embrace, if I could steal one kiss
With my head upon my pillow, I could smile and reminisce,
But you chose not to be confined to visions in my head,
You had visions of your own and followed them instead,
I asked you, to tell to me, the dreams you dreamt about
What kind of things you hoped for; what can’t you live without?
But you would never be so blunt, so blatant or so terse,
Confessing in your own time, not hastily coerced,
It wasn’t just a little time, it wasn’t just one smile
Every day you beam at me, and your light goes on for miles,
I had hoped for one embrace, to taste a single kiss,
You give me twenty everyday, and still the taste persists,
To be a ghost, a memory, was not part of your plan
Of all the things given to me, most treasured is your hand,
So now I see the dreams you held, no longer tucked away,
You've exceeded my own dreams, being next to me each day.
The days to come, no one knows what waits around the bend,
But everyday you live is blessed, when your wife is your best friend.
I'm non denominational. I practice no particular religious faith.
My religion is plain and simple: Love, Don't Hate.
I can't understand for the life of me
all of this "Don't build a Mosque close to the 911 site" controversy.
Muslims as a whole DID NOT launch the 911 attack.
It was carried out by a bunch of religious, fanatical maniacs.
If we forbid a Mosque to be built close to the 911 site
then no Christian Churches should ever also be allowed the right
to build a Church anywhere close to a hospital clinic
because fanatical Christians have been known to blow up abortion clinics,
killing innocents who had nothing to do with abortion at all.
My Great Country is crumbling from ignorance. The walls are beginning to fall
The 1st Amendment guarantees all of us Freedom Of and Freedom From Religion.
To forbid a Mosque being built based on its faith is a blatant violation of the U S Constitution.
All these protesters voicing their ignorance obviously
are only breeding more hate, more disharmony.
Why can't they see that one thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other?
There are religious fanatic terrorists and there are faiths that preach Love One Another.
Am I the only one on this planet who can see that this is all wrong?
I hate quoting Rodney King but, "Can't we all just get along?"
It’s written in your face, I can see it in your eyes
I don’t need to hear the words, to know your lies
From my friends they’ll be no shock, no surprise
They tried to tell me your love was all a disguise
I always countered, they couldn’t see what I could see
You were genuine, caring and accepted me for being me
But as time went on and things began to unfold
From the excuses given and the blatant truths untold
Bit by bit, the mask slipped from your disguise
And slowly the bitter truth I started to realise
I didn’t need to hear the words, to know the lies
It was written in your face, I should’ve seen it in your eyes
Love, joy and peace
three virtues, over-simplified,
three fairly well-understood character traits
desired by friends, rejected by very few
who live in community with others.
Patience, goodness, kindness
Patience, I readily admit is my own Achilles’ heel.
Goodness and kindness seem to overlap.
And yet I have come to understand that they are world’s apart.
Being kind, I might hesitate to mention your blatant shortcomings,
those faults which would hurt your feelings and separate us.
Being good, I am obligated to make you aware
of wrongdoings that weaken your purpose and cause others
to mistrust and ignore you.
Goodness goes that extra mile.
Friends can tell friends the truth even if it hurts
in the hope of making a better friend.
Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control
the last of the nine qualities which folks consider
in developing spiritual relationships.
Gentleness coincides with kindness and goodness,
for there is a way in which the truth can be told
with the intent of a stronger friendship.
Gentleness I relate to humility, and if I
see you my friend headed for that lonely place of
no return, I feel duty-bound to share with you
any error I see that can be rectified.
Through self-control, I can rest at night knowing that
there are NO secrets between you and me that
I would regret if you died tomorrow
and I knew I had not told you the truth.
July 14, 2013
Contest: International Friendship Day, August 7th 2022
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
The invective one chooses
razor sharp words that harm
with their sound and bite.
Lashing with tongue until
ears and hearts bleed.
Never has the power of the tongue
been so effective in
this invective onslaught.
The roots lie deep within the emitter,
raging torrents of ill feeling
within the invective one's being.
They are honed razor sharp and jagged
on the way up, and dabbed with
the venous poison of rattle snakes,
to inflect lasting damage and suffering
and to kill their prey slowly.
As they emit from the tongue
in a spitting action
the emitters face is
raging, flaming ruddy red,
steaming with invectiveness and bile.
Convulsed to blast out the words
with the force of dragon,
and weight or a thousand rhinos charging.
But, the invective ones
are not inventive and lack
the guile and cunning of
the snarky, snide, cynical sarcastic one
the words of which hurts more.
For the pain inflicted by these
emanates deep within the inflicted ones
soul, spirit and being.
Where it's designed to hurt
in a derived way without
leaving an external wound.
The invective one's lance is blatant,
up-front, in your face.
It can be parried away and blocked
with the shield of a thick-skin.
But alas, for the subtle stab of sarcasm
there is not such defense
for the pain arises deep within
the victim's psyche.
i exist in
absurd congruities
from rounds and angles
to oblong communities of vacuity
onward! valiant spasm
i hear the universal screams
through the overflowing chasm
spilling through technicolour dreams
what's real is art
but art is all silent
to the golems of earth
so absorbed in their violence
what's art is real
but reality is screaming
to any ear that dares hear
or any soul that bears dreaming
aye, it's blind hypnosis
but my watch has been set
for longsuffering psychosis
even unto or through my death
kicking the pricks
through temporal bliss
of this blatant ignorance
to the reward of god's kiss
Das dada = codified bonafide anachronism
me thoughts infused
with thom hankering for yesteryear
circa antebellum i.e.
American Civil War era veer
rilly, teetering, smoldering, rumbling
upon iniquitous tier
United States greenacres crossroads
with petticoat junction spear
ritually hexed courtesy anti abolitionists
pitted against unfair
slavery, yours truly spellbound
gravitating, fixating, entrancing,
an invisible sonneteer
disembodied spirit transported
back in time,
qua closing first decade
of twenty century aware
how historical events will unfold,
yet lacking means
to affect alternate outcome,
though yearning to spare
fledgling democracy deaf to blare
ring coming fury me unseen
relishing preponderant naiveté
and childlike innocence
before internecine warfare
many stripling young lads,
yet to sprout facial hair
trumpeting, scampering, rejoicing
after favored lass with no care
gathering rosebuds while they may
before their brave hearts got
touched, torched, taxed...
with fire, ah... so cavalier
wondering, speculating, nursing
curiously piqued how adaware
those who frolicked
within Autumn mist did revere
observing what didst appear
oblivious laughter and attitude
analogous to good cheer
omnipresent at Renaissance Faire,
no doubt trials and tribulations
compromised welfare
envious countless scores generations
past knew not global threats,
nonetheless societal fabric circa
early/mid nineteenth century
severely wrenched when
Emancipation Proclamation didst declare
manumision, though sadly
blatant anti semitism, bigotry, racism...,
trumpeted within rank putrid odor
doth still fill the air!
Because She Craved the Very Best
by Michael R. Burch
Because she craved the very best,
he took her East, he took her West;
he took her where there were no wars
and brought her bright bouquets of stars,
the blush and fragrances of roses,
the hush an evening sky imposes,
moonbeams pale and garlands rare,
and golden combs to match her hair,
a nightingale to sing all night,
white wings, to let her soul take flight ...
She stabbed him with a poisoned sting
and as he lay there dying,
she screamed, "I wanted everything!"
and started crying.
Keywords/Tags: Rose, Roses, Flowers, Materialism, Possessions, Shallow, Shallowness, Greedy, Greediness, Desire, Lust, Craving, Cravings, Gift, Gifts, Gift-Giving, Ingratitude, Ungrateful, Ungratefulness, Pomp, Circumstance
What The Roses Don’t Say
by Michael R. Burch
Oblivious to love, the roses bloom
and never touch . . . They gather calm and still
to watch the busy insects swarm their leaves . . .
They sway, bemused . . . till rain falls with a chill
stark premonition: ice! . . . and then they twitch
in shock at every outrage . . . Soon they’ll blush
a paler scarlet, humbled in their beds,
for they’ll be naked; worse, their leaves will droop,
their petals quickly wither . . . Spindly thorns
are poor defense against the winter’s onslaught . . .
No, they are roses. Men should be afraid.
The Monarch’s Rose or The Hedgerow Rose
by Michael R. Burch
I lead you here to pluck this florid rose
still tethered to its post, a dreary mass
propped up to stiff attention, winsome-thorned
(what hand was ever daunted less to touch
such flame, in blatant disregard of all
but atavistic beauty)? Does this rose
not symbolize our love? But as I place
its emblem to your breast, how can this poem,
long centuries deflowered, not debase
all art, if merely genuine, but not
“original”? Love, how can reused words
though frailer than all petals, bent by air
to lovelier contortions, still persist,
defying even gravity? For here
beat Monarch’s wings: they rise on emptiness!
In Chicago, Mayor RICHARD J ruled the roost DALEY for 21 years,
Til he breathed his last, giving way to the 'next sir:'
A pol named MICHAEL, who was dull and B'LAND-ICk!
When a snowstorm paved the way for a female successor.
'Hurricane JANE'S' reign BYRNEd hot and cold alternatively,
Til along came a black-vs.-white race that EPTON made BERN (I)Even hotter;
In neighborhoods from Sauganash to Lawndale to Beverly,
HAROLD's whiteWASHING of his opposiT'ON caused the Machine to totter.
But then he died, and neithORR DAVID nor another pol SAW YER discomfort
At EU(r) Mayor GENE's toppling of storied Chicago traditions,
Til came the inevitable, a RICHAR(d) DALEY, JUNIOR landslide election:
Which 22 years later left the "City that Works' in near-bankrupt condition..
..Setting the stage foR RAHM, E-MAN-U'EL love to hate,
The man whom some call "Tiny Dancer."
Who's next after him it's a bit early to tell,
But I say it's PAUL VALLAS, unless he gets cancer.
Chicago's Mayors:
1955-1976 - Richard J. Daley
1976-1979 - Michael Bilandic
1979-1983 - Jane Byre
1983-1987 - Harold Washington**
1987 (8 days) - David Orr (Interim Mayor)
1987-1989 - Eugene Sawyer
1989-2011 - Richard M. Daley, Junior
2011-Now - Rahm Emmanuel
2019 - ? - Paul Vallas ?
**Harold Washington defeated Republican mayoral candidate, Bernie Epton, in a bitterly contested, divisive campaign, one which focused largely on race. Epton's campaign slogan, for example, was: "Vote for Bernie, before it's too late." The racism was pretty blatant.