Long Blue blooded Poems
Long Blue blooded Poems. Below are the most popular long Blue blooded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blue blooded poems by poem length and keyword.
I live in a rose-tinted town
bowing mainly to White Western skies
bleached of blue blooded color
but also of dire Eastern dawns
with smoky red skies,
warning farmers and gardeners
taking and giving nutritional cover
under bad-blooded weather
on our way to further apart.
I live in a NorthEastern place
replete with geriatric grace
yet less mindful of holistic medicines
less conscious through holy meditations
less green ecoschool wholesome
with cooperative administrations
of home
and families
and neighborhoods
as wholesome 7-Generation multihoods.
I live in a public space
directed by private embrace
toward trusting love of all four dimensions
all eight lifetime resurrections
From infant to WinWin child,
child to WinLose pre-teen,
pubescent to late adolescent,
where U.S. culture seems LeftBrain stuck
between delayed adolescents and too young adults,
young adults toward mature WinWin multiculturists,
voters listening to WiseElder leaders,
WiseElder leaders
longing to conjoin CoMessiahs
and Bodhisattva PeaceWarriors
and PolyCulturing Yogis
and MultiCulturing EarthScientists
and PolyPhonically inclined EarthArtists
and PolyPathic EarthEducators
and EarthFirst Mentors.
Researchers and Designers
of full-octaved trust,
if for no positively healthy reason,
to avoid hatreds of anti-trust
and ambivalent angers
seeking secular mistrust
and equivalent fears
finding infinite misery
pathologies.
I live in a rose-scented town
where three polluted rivers conjoin
worshipped by LastNative gamblers
reweaving our vapid ritual bows
within all four fractal revolving directions.
I live in a rose-fading town
aging while watching southwestern drought,
at risk of growing Eastern coastal
as Northern blizzards of chaos
compete with Southern hurricanes and tornadoes
of flooding tsunamic competing complexity.
I live in a rose memory town
filled with ghosts of LeftBrain dominant climatic pathology
rising up to restore RightBrain with Left
peace from within,
settling down to withstand
capital punishments
ego-justified retributions
without rose-tinted restorative glasses.
A man died
I saw his face
In the city of Lagos
Oh what a place
On the highway
I saw him die
Hit by a car
Passing by
Nobody cared
They just walked on by
But I did
This was no lie
Materialism has made us cared less about ourselves
Capitalism has turned us to selfish evil elves
So who will pay for the sins of Nigeria?
Black Jesus with patriotism which meets the criteria
So who will stop the looting and stealing?
When millions suffer and they care not for the living
A man died
I saw his face
In the city of Lagos
Oh what a place
On the roadside
He died
With blood gushing from his nostrils
I could see the angels
Pulling him to the heaven
in numbers of seven
Death is a like deep sleep
Except from the pained that is accompanied
His eyes were wide open
Like as if he wanted to tell me something
And then it was nothing
And nothing
But nobody cared
He could have been my brother
Or the siblings of another
Or the father or that other
Man riding in his SUV
Didn’t even care to look at me
As I wept
What is wrong with humanity?
Are we still human?
Are we still human?
Why should babies go hungry with nothing to eat?
When the blue blooded flaunt their diamonds on power’s seat
But remember that man on the street
We will all be like him someday
When it is Judgment Day
Now account for your sins and pay
Vanity upon vanity
But yet I need that vanity to survive
When I am alive
It is relevant
When I am dead
It is not
But there are some things money can not buy
Love, good health and happiness
A man died
I saw his face
Yet I could not remember
The name of the place
In another land
Where nobody cares
I grabbed my head in despair
Justice is for the rich
And the poor are doomed
But all these are regarded as economic boom
Inflation is high
And corruption rate is higher
I can smell smoke and I can see fire
We are many now
Over a billion plus
We are ruled by fools who carry the curse
For a hundred years
I know no peace
Until I got to Heaven’s gate
Where all my sorrows cease
And the dead man is buried with respect
And nobody in the world is treated with neglect
Lynn, the tom-boy of Herald Square, couldn't be compared to Princess
Diana, or a similar one for finesse to perfectly fit in a royal scene;
that ordinary gal had a foolish wish of a non-blue-blooded Queen,
who rarely smiled, or said, " Thank you. " when they offered her a rose.
Her dad knew people in high places that loved green,
and he wanted her to look good to get more praise
and attention by squandering lots of money
on a wedding, not worth the social status and the stupidity;
to the wedding ceremony no royalty came only family and friends...
you would have had the impression that Queen Elisabeth
would have walked into the hall and congratulate her!
Eh, wasn't that a foolish wish of a non-blue blooded Queen?
Folks, don't nod in disapproval, the story gets better as it should;
the guests waited outside Saint Patrick's the Cathedral expecting a limousine...
not quite so! The royal coach pulled by two gray horses stopped at the curb,
the bride zoomed out dragging along the broom, not allowing him to greet anyone;
someone shouted, " Pretty boy, what's her rush? Why is she so jealous? He stared
at that upset gal and muttered, " Sorry " while his left ear was being pinched hard.
Bear with me a little bit longer, the best is yet to come, enjoy this comedy!
" Idiot! Idiot! Don't embarrass me!" Gino whispered...
" I shouldn't embarrass you in front of Miss Universe? "
" I will marry you...for worse, not for better! " Lynn vowed with madness,
and barging in, she forgot to pick up her wedding dress and tripped
and fell on her butt sliding down the isle while onlookers were filled with incredibility...
then she ran out stepping on Cardinal Cooke's foot who was returning from a wake!
The wedding was called off, and Gino was reproved by his mom for his mistake.
After reading my drama, who would have a foolish wish of a non-blue-blooded Queen?
Making drastic changes by acting on foolishness, doesn't make one look so keen.
Beneath thoughts with feelings
uniting and dispersing,
Within Earth's human constitutions,
democratic and win/lose cynical,
or even lose/lose nihilistic,
We each breathe in encultured nutritional space,
from a preferred multicultural healthy place,
for a polypathic wealthy outcome lifetime pace.
As we breathe in universal integrity
in spirited time,
we each can breathe out unitarian enchantment with sublime
ecstatic integrity refined
interdependent belief and behavior divine
compassions,
re-investing in this green win/win common healthy-wealth sanctuary
RevolutionTime,
non-sectarian
non-partisan
non-violent
non-ZeroSum
Beneath our most humane emergent thoughts and feelings,
all breathings in Yang
and back out square-rooted Yin
free rainbow unimpaired
not not despaired,
Within each bicameral beating heart
and imposing impassioning
reposing repassioned bodhisattva mind,
radically democratic energy regeneratively expanding
multicultural Golden WinWin Rules
to restore EarthJustice
By extracting degenerative lose/lose monocultural bad-faith toxins
now destroying purposes of health's intention
for red/blue-blooded beating hearts,
Each natural body out
spiritual mind in
yang with yin
co-laterally scripturing
ancient revolutions
of DNA's left and right,
west greets east,
uracil/cytosine balancing fractal seasonal resolutions,
where U=C-squared
light-cubed
green organic namaste
Transubstantiating +1 universal
equals
(-,-)0-square root bilateral integrity,
Left-nature multiplying Right-spirit interdependently multiculturing,
Left-yang patriarchal dominance divided against
Right-yin matriarchal suppressing
Different thoughts and feelings
between yang against yin, bipolar dividing
the sameness within yang with yin, dipolar co-arising
regenerative WinWin,
healthy thoughts with nutritional feelings.
EarthSoul has not evolved
randomly collecting objects,
like oil producing fields
and all-consuming
deductive dominated
academic LeftBrain feasting infrastructure,
But EarthSoul revolves
within a communion of planning
and doing cooperative projects
with WinWin empowering projections.
EarthSoul mentors praying
and acting
communal subjects,
producers and consumers,
speakers and listeners,
teachers and learners
studying poly-paradigms for health empowerment,
thinking multicultural regimes and teams,
deriving new ego-eco balancing cultures,
re-inventing Left-Right
polypathic societies,
GoldenGreen polyphonic heart-beaters,
polynomial red and blue-blooded creolizing lung breathers,
Soul singers,
Nature's spirit dancers,
Sublime co-designers,
Superb mutual choreographers,
Synergetic WinWin lovers.
EarthSoul revolving liberties of gliding hawks,
evolving night comforts
of a bee
humming in resonant nest
honeyed communion
dreamscape rest.
Empathic identities plan
actively hope and pray for
communally co-embodied environments,
nested co-invested infrastructures
resiliently caring for
with
each generation's next resonantly imagined crop
of well-designed petitioners,
celebrators
voters
praisers
more than lamenters.
Praised lamentations
Razed infrastructures
Threatening paradise promises
Persistently annoying resonance.
TragediComedy
dichotomy
dipolar co-gravitation;
where and when and why
we could and should and would
dip our dic
depends entirely
on how we WinWin choose
to define and redefine this nondual dic,
and maybe His/Her Prime Relational dip.
An EarthSoul
without a wealthy sense of humor
could not serve health omnipotently,
omnipresently
omnisciently polypathic.
EarthSoul has not evolved
randomly collecting objects,
Yet continues to revolve
this communion of sacred subjects.
I have many qualities and talents
that make me popular and likeable for my kindness,
and unpretentious gallantry;
ask me if I'm blue-blooded like the gentry!
I exist for a purpose and I intend reveal my cause;
honesty and shrewdness will guard me against errors...
do weeds grow in a well-maintained and embellished garden?
A grubby garden attracts gloominess, mine appeals to sunshine!
I have traveled down rough and dark roads,
grabbing the attention of bad-wishers,
who handed me gooseberries, not gorse;
it was a clumsy course swarming with rocks and thorns!
I exist for a purpose that puts fear into my unseen enemies,
who grumble and judge more than the-assumed-righteous-ones,
they are obsessed with their perfection and like to impose it on me;
but do they know that I control my destiny by spinning my fortune' wheel?
My belief is not to accept anything of worthless beauty,
I love to hide myself in the grain fields,and shake their stalks...
to celebrate a harvest more bountiful than sunflowers;
and I imagine myself gorging on fresh-baked bread daily!
O golden grains, your seeds satiate many that earn their hard living,
saying grace at mealtime...as God gives them His blessing;
and those hands that cut the husks off are much detested
by the elite with a feeling of inferiority and a lack of gratitude!
I exist for a purpose to bring glory to the Heavens,
that magnificently dazzle upon me in times of desperate need;
pity is an unacceptable word whenever they attempt to make a deal;
I change no direction and try not to fall into the trap of moral weakness!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
I see this perfect moon-lit night
with million heart-shaped stars in sight
ill-clad with none but drooping leaves
a fig-tree fraught with a disease
its beauty once majestic spoilt
in battle lost ‘gainst arid soil
Against all odds with all its might
a lone fig struggling to the light
I near the tree with footsteps sure
and marvel at perfection pure
a beauty of blue-blooded type
abstained for years I match its ripe
Then common sense lets turmoil in
footsteps once sure now uncertain
like Eve had been that first aeon
I’m gripped twixt hard rock and a stone:
like angels do, with caution tread
or foolishly go right ahead?
I gaze to heav’n the slightest while
a star winks with the merest smile
I wink back once, fig’s beauty draws
no human born without its flaws
entranced, I reach to nature’s art
a softness settles in my heart
I’m awestruck by my juicy dish
on first bite I will make a wish
I pare my find with great aplomb
perfection glows within its womb
I wish upon my luscious feast
well soon I too would be deceased
The love was pure twixt you and me
from knee-high way past puberty
your final gift bore on bent knee
aware your last meal it would be
our fig we shared with great delight
first you, then me, alternate bites
Heart’s softness hardens, deeply torn
a lone tear in each eye is born
they multiply, become yet more
in memory of our days of yore
this perfect fig brought none but pain
no fig will pass my lips again
************************************
An invite came from Buckingham Palace to sup with the queen!
What a rarefied event that will be, dining on royal cuisine!
I try to recall the many social graces taught by my Mom,
So as to breeze thro' the affair with a modicum of aplomb!
'Tis prudent to forget table manners learned in the navy,
Like using salty language and sopping my bread in the gravy!
Or tossing my tie over my shoulder or slurping the soup.
'Twould ensure icy glares and horrified gasps from that august group!
Seated, I take inventory of the tools - these do confuse,
Reckoning which of the myriad of forks and spoons I should use!
Do I begin from the inside out or from the outside in?
(I'll just wait and surreptitiously watch until the others begin!)
Is using my fingers to eat pickles, caviar and artichokes,
Acceptable even when dining with these imperial blokes?
If the duchess on my right asks for salt do I also pass pepper?
Such lapses in social amenities make me feel like a leper!
I must not use my napkin as if I'm vigorously washing my face;
That would heap upon my head the pinnacle of disgrace!
Ere I spill wine on the duke to my left, 'twas just as well,
That I awoke from my short-lived blue-blooded spell!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Alas, I did not receive an invite from the Queen - just dreaming!!!!!
"Why is it", the donkey mused, "that horses get all the glory?
Seems throughout the ages its the same old hackneyed story.
We go unheralded and are treated with utter disdain,
While horses bear king and emperor about their vast domain!"
"Though we are somewhat ungainly and will never win a race,
We've born distinctive personages with extraordinary grace!
I'll tell you of unnamed heroes among our humble breed,
That will outshine the acclaim of any blue-blooded steed!"
"Mister Ed the talking horse has nothing on the donkey Balaam rode.
She saw an angel of the Lord in the way and promptly left the road!
Balaam cursed, the donkey talked some sass and was beaten thrice!
The angel was about to slay Balaam had he not heeded her advice!"
"A donkey was in the stable when the Prince of Peace was born.
Later to Egypt they fled - on a donkey Mary's Babe was borne.
For entry into Jerusalem, He chose a donkey, a borrowed one at that.
Hosanna! Hosanna! God's Son it was! There he regally sat!"
"We've had astride us preachers, desperados and hardy pioneers,
And have been accused of stubborness driving mankind to tears!
But when all is said and done, we provide reliable transportation,
Getting you slowly but safely to your ultimate destination!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
Rustic mountains
Through glaciations
Moulded this wonderful
Scottish Nation
Caledonian Forests
Covered our land
On our Western Islands
Golden beached sands
Glens and rivers
Cris cross our land
Glorious moors
Where the Highland Stag stands
Majestic and tall
Proud and might
This king of beasts
The most wonderful sight
Scenery to thrill
Heather-ed in purpled bloom
Look out any window
Its our own front room
Golden Eagles
Soar above these lands
Winged royalty
In their blue blooded strand
Our contribution to our modern world
Is all around us, read and learn
Logie Baird, with Television
Pedal Cycle, Kirkpatrick MacMillan
Medical marvel, Penicillin
In other Nations our touch has felt
Our Ancestors us, we Celts
For centuries we cast our nets
To further lands
We were always met
Friendly Scots in every way
Gave this world
A better say
America, Canada, New Zealand too
Us Scots are in me and you
Ancestral blood runs through our veins
The quite wonderful Scottish strain
Alba.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php