Long Borders Poems

Long Borders Poems. Below are the most popular long Borders by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Borders poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member People

Humanity is comprised of people of varying skin shades,
white, black, red, brown, olive, and yellow, to name a few. 
And amongst every skin color, there are intelligent, stupid,
honest, deceitful, friendly, hateful, hopeful, and depressed people.
And yet, they all share one thing: they are human! 

Strangely, we can't relate to one another, though we're all related.
Thus, we form tribes, not families,
but an exclusive circle of like-minded people!
Tribalism is a primal force, segregating people into groups,
like our people, their people, and those other people!

What is a country? It's merely a group of similarly-minded people;
who arm themselves and claim a piece of the Earth as theirs,
erecting invisible borders to keep others away.
People will always distrust people, because people can't be trusted! 
Influential, powerful, wealthy, and shadowy people
call the shots; for they're unequivocally corrupt people!

People get ostracized for being different,
poor, lazy, discontented, and homeless: 
the kind of people society considers disposable.
These distinctions include the old, young, frightened, 
challenged, hungry, and oppressed people.

Political, deranged, delusional, religious, and unscrupulous people
all share one trait: they're loyal only to the tribe they identify with.   
These conflicting tribes huddled behind their barbed-wire walls   
will one day kill all the people, and thus, there will be no more people!


Premium Member Yankee Doodle Dandy

Yankee Doodle Dandy

It’s where I’ve fallen and where I lay.
Ashes to ashes, cradle to grave,
Where drums roll and the fife is played.

Where the bell tolls, it tolls for me.
Dust to dust, pray tell, “It’s Liberty!—
It’s Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

It’s where I lie and where I’ll be
When they come to bury me.
Cover me, and let me rest in peace.
                     ***

Note: 
   The “American Revolutionary War,” aka the American War of Independence, took place from April 19, 1775, to September 3, 1783, between Great Britain and the thirteen British colonies in North America.
   According to a few accounts, when General Cornwallis (1738–1805), the commander of the British forces, whose officers surrendered to General George Washington (1732–1799), the commander of the Continental Army at Yorktown, Virginia, on October 19, 1781, the retreating, defeated British troops were met by an American band playing “Yankee Doodle.”
   On September 3, 1783, the “Treaty of Paris” was signed between Great Britain and the United States, ending the American Revolutionary War and establishing the borders between British North America and the United States of America.
Form: Verse

Premium Member Distant Shores

When he was but a lad of eight
the sand-drenched shores of distant lakes
beckoned from three miles away
 ~ her wave-tossed fingers calling

Ten years anon the world did widen
ocean's spray from coastal islands
coughed up rarest treasures
 ~ enticing newly freed horizons

Now twenty-eight, in life's full bloom
yearning for those distant shores
of frozen, ice-capped polar regions
 ~ penguins preened and pranced at his good fortune 

'Twas then and there he realized
that the borders of true distant shores
extended far beyond this homely planet 
 ~bending space and time galactically 

How to reach them is his challenge
Missiles, rockets, telescopes -- scientific hope
Quantume physics, string theory, spiraling gyroscopes
 ~ myriad multiverses teasing mortal minds  

Yet the farthest out he dare does go  
Terrestrial winds inside him blow: 

O, distant shores come back to me
 ~ on winged ships of entropy
 
 



'

Premium Member Trumpeting Tool

Friends, fellow poets and countrymen, please lend me your ear.
I do not live in Australia, and I wish to make that perfectly clear.
I will not insult that country, for to do so I’d have nothing to gain.
To be so rude would buy me a seat, on Trump’s derailed a$$ train.

I am a patriotic American, this is where I choose to reside.
I love my great country, and by its laws I will always abide.
In our United States, you’re eligible to vote if you pay your tax, 
giving you the right to bash Biden or ride Trump’s crooked tracks.

Don’t tell me my country is broken from over 8800 miles away.
You can kiss my grits for that slander!  That’s what I have to say.
You dare claim America is broken? How would you even know?
Was it social media and Fox News, or did a little joey tell you so?

Your political intellect is subpar, your facts are drivel and fake.
Cut back on the amount of Gin used in your stale Kangaroo cake.
You make me laugh, attention seeker, because you are such a fool.
The blunder from down under is just a brash Trumpeting Tool.

I come to write, not to bury another country for its faults.
If you’re not an American, then it’s time your pen halts.
Stop the demeaning insults you keep slinging at our borders, 
or people might start pointing out your disturbing disorders.
Form: Rhyme

Fingerpaint

Your canvas sits in the corner of the room
                                                        Ripped fabric hangs from the borders 
                                                            Winter elicits a cold shoulder

                                             Paint strung across the wall-remember when you stalled
                                                  Head hung low, I know what it means to be called
                                             Nothing leaves the heart stained like the image of your fingerpaint

                                                               The room echoes your words
                                                           I know you wished for sensible worth
                                                        Begging for someone to trace your sighs
                                                        Begging for someone to trace your thighs
                         
                                               Brush against the paper-brush against the asked favor
                                                     Rusted razor, Rusted flavor, blood-orange moon
                                                  Soon again, soon we pretend, soon is a better ending
                                                                 Erase for a picture-perfect world
                                                 
                                                           Your canvas hangs in the living room 
                                                They call it a muse-all of sudden you are deemed a ruse
                                                             Point a finger at the mistakes of the past
                                                                        I'll continue to paint


Premium Member Follow the Locusts

The climate of planet earth has always been in a constant state of change, but modern science seems to have discovered a pattern of transformation that is very disturbing.  Such revelations enable them to predict changes that will occur based on conditions that we mortals have created or have been a great contributor.  Whether caused by natural processes over time or due to the reckless greed of mankind matters little, but the bigger question is whether or not we can effect a change, or is it really inevitable that we are ecologically and realistically doomed to annihilation.  For at least half to three-quarters of my life, the government and the popular media have given me endless scenarios of, not possible but most probable catastrophic outcomes barring some drastic altering of mankind's current way of life. The kind of climate change that they foresee engenders a wildly ballistic mentality of anticipated pain and lasting misery of yet unheard of proportions, and it has the feel of a movie whose director and producer are prepared for mad dashes to high hills, mountain tops, and cave dwelling as the borders of southern Oregan clear across the Rockies and northern states become mere icepacks and freezer zones. The entire state of California will break away along the High Sierras and slide into the Pacific. Massive earth quakes, tsunamis, ice caps, floods, mud slides, forest fires, massive power outages, regional droughts, tornadoes, and hurricanes will as if having a mind of their own form a treaty to create a perfect storm in the northern hemisphere. Like the wild animals of the jungle and beasts of the wilderness, mankind's only feat will be to survive in an environment where the reasoning and rationalizing ability have been exchanged for a chaotic world of anarchistic instinct. *It is said that the locust does not have a king, yet they travel in bands.  I do not look forward to a time when the locust accomplishes more in a leaderless state than we humans will. We will not be unified but disconnected as we slowly drift into a planetary abyss after pounding each other into the dust from which we came.  Need I say more about how long this distructive condition will last? I know.  So much doom and gloom....but I have too much to declare.
06042017PSContest, The Bleaker The Better, Julia Ward; Proverbs30:27*, NA

Premium Member Obsessively Yours

If you don’t like intensity
Then you better listen to me
Go back to your playhouse, boy
And kindly just let me be.

I’m past the little sweet talk
And I’m past the flirting stage
If you’re unused to passion
Then don’t get caught in my cage

I love with insanity
That borders on obsession
Stop giving mixed signals
Or I’ll make this bold confession

I dream about you all the day
And you’re my fantasy at night
If you knew how I adore you
It’s sure to give you quite a fright

I’m no weakling in the love game
I can fight, destroy, and seize
Anyone who dares look at you
I will torture just as I please

You are what keeps my soul alive
Your smile sets my heart ablaze
When you give that knowing look
I can’t fight back desire’s craze

I’ll be at your beck and call
Fulfill each desire and whim
You’ll have food that’s made in heaven
I’ll fill your love cup to the brim

I want to lie down beside you
See you drift to dream land sweet
I’ll plant kisses on your lips
Till the morning sun you greet

I’m consumed by thoughts of you
And when you’re near I’m set on fire
My days are spent in wistful thought
You’re my only true desire.

I wish that you would want me
In the self-same frenzied way
That gives no chance for sleep at night
Nor restful peace during the day

So if this is all, just way too much
And you feel you might suffocate
Then let me give you freedom, child
I need a man to reciprocate!
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member We Must Unite

If we think our country can go on like this
We couldn’t be more wrong on any day
The enemy has already been empowered
They have infiltrated within our borders
Attacks prove what they are capable of doing
Weakened, divided Americans cannot manage this scenario
We fight the wars abroad, now it is here on our soil
Law enforcement cannot be expected to keep up with this
If we want lives saved and to protect our country
-   The only way is for Americans to ‘unite’    -
We must do what is right for our country together
Not fighting with each other, not ignoring the facts
The time is now to come up with positive solutions
It is imperative to save Americans and our country

Heidi Sands

11/1/17

Premium Member Apex?

When an apex predator behaves unnaturally
The balance of power becomes upsetting
The scale is not just immeasurable
It's behaving dysfunctionally

Reason is cast aside
When sides are paramount
Differences mounting to the sky
Becoming mountainous, unassailable

  Forgetting we rose from the ooze
  We didn't choose what was discarded
  But it was nature made that choice for us
  And not something lightly regarded

The borders crossed were nature's own
And no one owned what was provided
No one claimed as theirs alone
What only nature has decided

What's unbecoming to presume
Has become our nature to resume
Some think that challenging is treason
And choosing sides is tantamount to reason

	Ignoring what has led us here
	In willful ignorance compounded
	Compounding what leads only to fear
	And thoughts of our ascent unfounded

Premium Member Britches Is At It Again

“Britches”, Is At It Again!
By: Tom Wright
7/17/2006

Katrina came ashore
Sparing scarcely a palm,
Rains deluge came pelting,
Days later, the calm;

Rising floodwaters deposited
All its ill-gotten debris,
The ravaged were left floating
Or deposited in a tree.

People were seen clinging
To life on one’s rooftop,
While rescuers in their boats
Seemed too busy to stop.

Huge oil rigs were cut loose
And left adrift by this blow,
While at the pump we wonder
Just where the price will go?

We force the displaced on buses
Shipping them to Tim-buck-two,
Losing all that life had offered
They now must start life anew.

Politicians and actors
Are now united in voice,
That at fault was George Bush
He had made the wrong choice.

Seems the country is united
In the game we call blame,
Someone’s head had to roll
The head of FEMA by name;

But alas they’re not finished
New Orleans must rise again,
Once more below sea level
Our stupidity borders on sin.

A welfare city 
Rife with corruption and sin,
It’s a way of life
Which only God can end.

Politicians will squander billions
Seeming to pay little mind,
For their endless cash flow’s strapped
To the taxpayers behind!
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace