Long Brand Poems
Long Brand Poems. Below are the most popular long Brand by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brand poems by poem length and keyword.
What have been sayin’
It's only Saturday
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Father in the kitchen
Eats his check away
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Don’t you shake and shiver
When the hounds of order bey?
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
God is dead, or in Toms River –
Any dumb excuse to pray
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Island people don't get ready
Wherever there's tsunami
They wait until that drawback gets all flushed
But back to your studies
Back to Bloom's Taxonomy
And the camouflage of sophomore girls’ first blush
It’s cartridge, pump and filter
It’s the dose in the ashtray
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
All the post-its in your Rilke
Will not my respect sway
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Your hopeless, guileless, wretched pact of clay
The family-brand is over –
Say whatever you want but not “gay”
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Author Dana Redricks
October 11, 2024
To have loved is a treasure, a gift finely spun, far richer than silence, where hearts come undone. With each brand-new chapter, with every embrace, we gather the fragments, we find our own place.
Through laughter and heartache, through joy and despair, with every connection, we learn how to care, and just be there. In the dance of emotions, we stumble and rise, gaining wisdom through wonder, through tears and through sighs.
Each moment's a teacher, each memory a guide, pointing us gently to passions inside. We learn to hold tight to the dreams we've conceived, and to fight for our loves, for the hopes we've believed.
With every encounter, our spirits expand, like flowers unfolding, we reach for the stars. We discover our voices, our strength we will rise. Finding beauty in struggle, in the storm.
So cherish each heartbeat, embrace every scar, for love, in its essence, will take us quite far. It’s better to have loved, to weather the storm, than to drift in the shadows, the heart never warm.
In the tapestry woven, through joy and through grief, we gain the deep knowledge, the sweet sense of relief. To love, to be loved, is the essence of life. A radiant journey through both bliss and through strife.
Some relationships are for strengthening us, and one we gain new confidence. Either we can let it make us stronger, or we can let it break us.
But whatever we take from it, let each experience help us grow, and love better and love stronger. With letters of love. “L” is for learning, “O” is for overcoming optical, “V” is victorious, and “E” is for every heartbeat.
My priorities to flow free
connect rhymes like 4G
collecting the glory
like no one before me.
Record it cus I can,
with technology at hand,
make my own brand,
that so hard to understand?
You're adjacent to the testicle,
and you're not the other ball,
you hang and you dangle
redundant of mantle.
Actions indefensible leaving me offended,
while these rhymes I extract through my pencil are splendid,
you did what he did and he did what she did,
and that's how the sheep live.
We've herd it before,
you just reword it and bore,
your poetry is traditional,
I map out the additional.
The expectations should expect
the exceptional next step,
the evolution I project
is here to accept.
Money has no color,
whether it came from Black, White, Asian
or any other tribesman, a dollar is a dollar, not more or less.
Money doesn’t smell,
therefore, it weighs the same, whether it comes from
marijuana dealer’s pocket or holy temple’s offering basket.
Money doesn’t have a heart,
that’s why its size is the same whether it was earned
with sweat and tears or swindler’s easily made filthy lucre.
Money doesn’t have a face,
whether it came from hypocrites, wicked or honest wage earners,
they circulate in the market place without distinctions.
Money doesn’t have eyes,
that’s why if it was pulled out from a brand-named hand bag
with slender fingers or a old beaten purse with stiffened fingers,
they dance together hand in hand.
Money, though, is a quantity but not a quality,
money from wealthy ones always shines regardless how they
were made, while money from poor are treated contemptuously;
why is that so? Probably, money invented by men has
now become an uncontrollable monster, and goes,
to make a new myth, leading this corrupted world.
Although money is a quantity,
since the time when money controls men, the size of money
became a standard and the weight of the money became a status, virtue and dignity.
And now, after men have accepted the paradox of money
as a course of nature, it became impossible, even with collateral,
to go against the current of the river. Rather, for weak or strong,
bad or good, or even dead or alive, it flows only downward
pushed by the rushing water.
Goodbye, December 2018
December comes with end-of-year goodbyes.
Full winter settled in, and we proceed
with shorter days and time that now implies,
we turn our minds to holidays full speed.
Most everyone's consumed with Christmas joy
and finding gifts for loved-ones fills each day,
while families and friends meet to enjoy
this happy time...our end-of-year bouquet.
December is the last month of our twelve
which granted one full year of time to spend;
our final month to relish and soon shelve
as its last midnight brings us to year-end.
A brand new set of twelve will soon appear;
December, bye for now...see you next year.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Standard 150
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 12/24/20-18
Our Lovely Dog Snickers
I was directed today,
To a brand new web site.
It’s all about pets,
And some of their plights.
It got me to thinking,
Of a dog we once had.
She was part of the family;
I felt more like her dad.
When I was at work,
One thing I knew sure.
She was waiting for me,
Her heart was so pure.
When she knew it was time
For me to get home.
She’d wait by the door,
With a toy or a bone.
She’d have a smile on her face,
Her tail would be wagging.
Her affection for me
Never seemed lagging.
If I said, so she’d hear,
“I’m taken’ the truck.”
She always got excited;
She hoped she’s in luck.
If I went for a walk,
She was right by the door.
Looking at me,
With her leash on the floor.
Oh she was a shedder,
A hair-growing machine.
Our house always needed
A thorough vacuuming.
When it came time for bed,
She would stand at her cage.
She knew the routine,
was as smart as a sage.
Some time a while back,
I read of two men.
Who were speaking of Heaven,
But of course hadn’t been.
One fellow wondered,
Would they barbecue there?
Will they melt down smores?
Could the steaks be grilled rare?
Will they use charcoal briquettes?
Or does propane heat the air?
Would there be a choice of soft drinks
Or is it just water there?
Will the biscuits be golden?
Would they there use some leaven.
They were so filled with queries,
About life then in heaven.
Well one of the questions
I would ask of those two.
Will my Snickers be there?
On my slippers to chew?
Will Heaven be heaven?
If that really ain’t so.
Is it finally the place
Where I’ll want to go?
Is she still as anxious,
To run in the clouds?
Or are things there so different,
With men in white shrouds?
I’ll not forget how it ended.
Then came the conclusion.
Perfection in heaven
Is no foggy illusion.
For as my dog had her favorites,
Chew toys and a chair.
She’ll be as happy as ever
When her master gets there.
That seems now so clear,
That’s settled for me.
I have hope and joy,
As the end now will be.
If when at the gate,
I don’t my little dog see.
I’ll know I’m in heaven,
For my Master will be.
Written by oldbuck, after an afternoon of
Thinking about his little Snickers
And their possible “future” together.
WHEN WE FINALLY SEE THE LIGHT
People of Earth are totally amazing
The ingenuity of the human mind
Ain't no animal in this whole wide world
As unique, we're one of a kind
Pride in the achievements of all of us peeps
We'll soon be travelling to the stars
Making regular excursions back and forth
Meeting little green men on Mars
A bright new future and a brand new start
Maybe this time we'll get it right
Love and friendship throughout the lands
When we finally see the light
Must sound strange, somewhat delusional
But believe me it just has to be
The alternative is totally unacceptable
To survive we all must be free
It's totally amazing how far we've come
Since man first began to dream
A time of peace lies just round the corner
When happiness reigns supreme
Moniff Transfer Zone
Mass Transfer Zone
Atta Bouis haul ya
Sing that there?
Damn blame me
You forgot the
First word.
You should be singing
Since you know
Every Word
How they sing that
there
How they sing that
there
(Alto) You one of
them ones
So sing with the
Alto's
(Cantar) Starts the
Piece, gone sing
w up the the alto's
How y'all sing that
there
How do y'all sing that
there.
Meet with resistance
they frowned and moaned
I heard some curse and groan
but we talked it out.
We translated
and tweeted
Adjustments
Introducing a greet
Then we were happy
To see
We could get along
Our new song
We changed each and
Every verse
Music can first
ah brand new song
How y'all sing
That there
Even if you see the world upside down
We all have different ways to see the world
Meeting people of all kinds, from different cultures
Have a common focus, and keeping your attention
Fantasy and play are good in many ways
Why not, a snowman up and down
Exploring alternatives, expanding the perspectives
Believe in the best of everybody,
we belong to each other
Being different means you are unique
Do not pass by,
go back and make a brand new start
Just a little smile,
may have the ability to change a human day
Do you see the star far over there?
It is the Bethlehem Star or the Christmas Star
A shining beauty full of secrets
No matter where you are, we can look at it together
You, the snowman and me
One day the snowman will melt,
but the star will always remain
15.12.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
*Image of Agoraphobia by Pixabay.
KJV John 8:32 "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."
Agoraphobia
I mistook my pain for a summer's eve,
For this is what loneliness does to me,
Adrift on an orchid sweet stern petal,
It is lofty thoughts that steer my mettle,
For such frees me from my isolation,
Self-delivered like my separation,
Sites make a quarry, I try to withdraw,
Diverse regions clumsy, like a jigsaw,
Simply, naught to gain any sense I face,
Seclusion oddly is my happy place,
A zenith sun beats away at my door,
As carpet brand paces made on the floor,
Meds just let others see me at my worst,
For my inner self tells me I am cursed,
No potion concocted, no spell was said,
A sad delusion this shadow has spread,
A shedding sun frees me from my prison,
Like so many, I somewhat have risen,
But unlike them, it is for mixed reasons,
My annular trek for all four seasons,
The night, my phantom friend, my luxury,
As it lingers, it will embolden me,
Though my rest will not be the same but brief,
For my restless mind robs me like a thief,
As tomorrow lends vast hope advances,
Can I recover, what are my chances,
For I dread the dawn, fear it be the same,
To hide and not be found plays out this game,
It is common knowledge for those who know,
Agoraphobia, my true shadow.
2020 January 12