Long Cages Poems
Long Cages Poems. Below are the most popular long Cages by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cages poems by poem length and keyword.
My words are under fire
by the PC police for hire
the outcome appears dire
as the stakes keep gettin’ higher
so I write with tongue in cheek
daring them to take a peek
and in reading loudly shriek
we must stop him – he’s a freak.
So the game of words progresses
in a quagmire of word messes
before magistrates in dresses
an inquisitor confesses
that the words are but a token
it’s the idea that they’re spoken
and our PC rules are broken
from the doldrums they have woken.
As their fire licks the pages
listen to the flaming sages
burning in their PC cages
cursing censorships dark phases
first its promise to empower
those held hostage in the tower
so that now they can devour
the soul of each wildflower.
So beware their flaming curse
as they plunder rhyme and verse
and the muse slowly coerce
with virtue’s piety perverse.
©9/12/2018
for – Playing With Words Under Fire Poetry Contest
Ode to the earthling addle the atom
Ode to the shrieking neutrino bloom
sing to the crack in the hole of the blandon
the wrestling angels are restless tonight.
God of the moon glow blow her away
Teet of the Titan milk fire-holes
Her radii squared by a too lovely dress
a peck for her rages a pickling cure
Her circle of cages the blinding alure
Out of her graces pop-over Job
Fling the new races and say nothing more
light seeping under the lazed ocean salts
The hammering seasons chained to their vaults
Dawns a last ocean's fratrical beat
bursting in ice melting in heat
now that the sun's last rite is retired
The Earth is a wind- is ice- is fire
and nothing more
and nothing more
and nothing more
and nothing more.
Let me get this straight,
You demand everything be free
and have no intention of assimilating.
I said we need to tighten up the borders a bit.
To screen who's coming in.
Know you called me a racist.
Said I wanted children placed in cages.
You pulled the "phobia card". Again
From your magic hat of political correctness.
Truth is, those children are being clothed and well fed.
Entertained and educated.
Have a roof over their heads
Free medical attention...
Unlike some of our own children
and countless homeless vets.
My views have nothing to do with religion
or the color of your skin.
It has everything to do with
separating roses from the weeds...
You know the thing called vetting with common sense.
Remember you often said you wanted to kill us.
While demanding all that free stuff...
"That my blue-collar butt actually pays for.
In sweat and blood"...
Now you want me to lay out a welcome mat
and shut my trap.
Well, that's never going to happen, Jack.
I'm the type that doesn't mind speaking my mind.
Having a little tussle in the political muck.
Walking down the throat of a gun...
So, get in line like the millions before you.
Bring those baskets filled with good intentions.
Leave those thorns of hate behind.
Don't cut in line
Maybe someday we can toast to assimilation and democracy...
Share a hectare of Mexican gold
from the torch of Lady Liberty's soul
and inhale the sweetness of freedom.
Together
I welcomed you twenty twenty, a brand spanking new year
But all you brought with you was death, misery and fear
So I'll be glad to see the back of you and cant wait 'till you're gone
And I hope for better times in the year twenty twenty one.
You've left behind some' bad stuff' like covid nineteen
But hopefully it'll be defeated when they roll out the vaccine
Wearing masks and not seeing family, well that's been quite hard
But while you still lurk about, I won't drop my guard.
World leaders were floundering, not quick enough to act
Putting their economies before people and that is a fact
If only they'd looked at history, like the great Spanish flu
They'd have been a lot wiser and would've known what to do.
The news reported acts of kindness in every country
Like front line health workers who risked their lives for humanity
Sadly many of those brave heroes died needlessly
Because governments were too slow to provide proper P. P. E.
Viruses are nothing new and they'll come back again
We must stop destroying mother earth for financial gain
Upsetting natures balance causes these viruses to thrive
Mankind really needs to take notice if he wants to survive.
Cramming animals into cages is a pitiful sight
But mother nature is watching and is preparing to fight
Razing forests and dumping rubbish and polluting the sea
Is a recipe for disaster that'll bring untold misery.
So good riddance or go do one, many people will say
I'd remove all records of you if I had my way
People will always remember you for bringing misery and tears
And there will be much joy and relief as twenty twenty one nears.
When the clock strikes midnight, so happy I'll be
As twenty twenty sinks into the dark annals of history
But stay awake mankind and listen to the experts that know
I don't want to be the one saying "well I told you so".
Written 27th December 2020
2020 to 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mohan Chutani
The songbird sings because she must,
her voice a trembling act of trust.
Her wings press tight to iron bars,
a cage that steals her sky and stars.
She remembers how the wild winds felt —
a freedom stolen, not dispelled.
For memory’s echo, soft and slight,
can hollow even morning’s light.
The bear still paces, slow and worn,
a creature grown from grief and scorn.
Step, turn, step back — the silent plea
of something trapped that should be free.
Even asleep she feels the walls
closing like hands in quiet thralls.
Some beasts grow huge, some merely break;
both suffer for the captor’s sake.
The snake lies coiled, her spine confined,
a tightness clinging to her mind.
She sheds old skin in layered grief,
but finds in each no true relief.
What’s left behind upon the floor
still haunts the shape she takes once more.
For pain, once worn, will often stay
no matter how she fades away.
The wolf stares out through latticed wire,
a ghost of dusk, of wild desire.
Her eyes should mirror nights unbound,
but now reflect the fenced-in ground.
She growls at shadows of her past —
the forests lost, the futures cast.
The world she knew has slipped from call,
and left her here, inside a stall.
And then —
there is me, caught just the same.
I am the bird denied the sky,
the bear who walks though she would fly,
the snake who sheds but still holds pain,
the wolf who mourns what won’t return again.
My bars are memories, sharp and thin,
built from the ache beneath my skin.
I breathe, the walls breathe back at me —
a quiet kind of misery.
And so I whisper, soft and true:
I know your cage.
I wear it too.
Going on a cruise to Pirate Island where women rule.
The men have been taken prisoner where they eat gruel.
They are looking for a pirate queen, a strong minded wench.
I speak Spanish, and I eat my toast and fries in French.
Pirate Island is just around the next bend, matey.
I am glad I finally get to go, before I’m eighty.
There are banners all over that shout out women’s names.
I tear them down as soon as we land. Not playing their games.
The women are wearing black patches and wooden pegs.
I scoff at their lack of imagination which are in the dregs.
I jump out of the boat with my knife and machete.
Challenging them all because I am ripe, and I’m ready.
There is screaming and shouting and they begin to run hard.
I start singing my praises, in songs, for I am a ridiculous bard.
The men yell out of their cages that they think I should be queen.
I throw buckets of tar on them to show them I can be truly mean.
My trusty dragon steed Chester begins twirling up the beach on the sand.
My female relatives begin playing jazz, sounding like a mariachi band.
Pretty soon the other women throw their banners into the sea.
The uncontested evil queen of Pirate Island is once again me.
The clown juggled his feelings in front of an incredulous crowd
Life is a circus and even a fool’s manna does not fall from heaven
He had balls to impose his mask and mascara onto instant applause
Was not sure though about who was the jester of standing ovations
His delusion was the illusion of reality in preposterous meaning
An existential artist he seemed to be in retro postmodern nostalgia
Intermezzo personified with endless beginnings entombed in a grin
Cut with a razor tattooed on his skin facing an ignorant audience
True to his script he stumbled and fell short and flat of intemperate desire
Gobbled up sand mixed with elephant poo and regurgitated misplaced pride
‘I sold my soul to fake laughter but even the kids are stuck on their phones’
Past his best like a relic he assembled dust of anger and fear for the future
He had turned into a proverbial slurve a slipped metaphor of fading delight
An imposter of joyful exuberance in a tedious world that could not care less
A projection of resentment a nuisance and overdue reminder of innocence lost
He was real to himself though like a hole in a bucket draining trickles of faith
As he gathered oblivious agony and immeasurable shame and contempt
He whipped one last sphere of hope high into the canopy of sad gloom
Hoped that the contorted trapeze artist might catch his final effort to escape
She twisted dangled reached out then crushed into a net suspended in yearning
With the show over ungrateful spectators left the miserable dishonest display
The tent was locked up and the onlookers retreated into self-righteous boredom
As lions horses fleas impalement and con artists took to their cages’ containment
The clown and the acrobat slipped off the road and eloped into a promising night
17th June 2019
Weightlessness
My soul floats "along with the thunder,"
Saturated with impending rain,
Scattered back throughout the earth,
Lost among ancient ruins and countless seas.
I awaken, feeling hollowness within my quivering heart.
Frantically getting dressed,
The front door blows open—
Listening to its siren's call.
Piece by fragile piece, I must absorb it back into my mortal coil.
Hike through deadly nightshade-tangled forests,
Sleep amongst somber bones in graveyards of contrition,
Push through arid, combusting deserts,
Swim through the waters of paranoia—
Riptides of mentholated melancholy.
Watch as the embers of dawn settle into the ashes of dusk.
Build a golden pyre upon the jaded shale,
Lay my weary bones on the cleansing flames,
Until I rise anew from the ashes,
Never again to be confined within corroded psychosocial cages.
FRAGILE
I watched my mother
Beautiful, petite, smart
Widowed at 28 with three small children
And people said, "Be extra good, your mother is fragile."
A blonde Jackie Kennedy,
Right down to the pill-box hat
The early 60s when women were pretty, songless birds
Protected in their husbands' split-level cages.
Remarry was the only way, "they" said
As she ran for public office, favored to win.
But he wouldn't have a wife that worked
Unless ironing his shorts three times to get it "right."
Glass is fragile. I found that out
As I heard him smashing it when he beat her at night.
Bones are fragile. I found that out
When mommy had broken fingers and toes after loud nights.
My mother was many things.
A victim. A woman. But fragile?
Mommy bird sang a song of invincibility
As she escaped her cage with five children in tow.
I have two girls of my own. Smart.
Beautiful. Compassionate. I am proud.
They know that fragile means breakable
And that women in our family are more steel than glass.
Fragile is for collectibles we buy and sell.
My mother taught me we cannot be owned.
Fragile is for birds without a voice.
But my mother sang, even if in a different key.
My mother was the strongest woman I ever knew.
I hope she looks down on her female descendants
And sees that one Jackie-like woman in a pill box hat
Inspired generations of decidedly non-fragile women.
January 26, 2017
I can not believe that in our United States
A country known for the best debates
A country known for equal rights
A country that fairly wins our fights
I can not believe this and neither should you
There must be something we can do
First, they began changing toys, I couldn't believe what I read
There was nothing biased about Mr. Potato Head
Barbie was built as a blonde skinny babe but that wasn't too made kids feels bad or afraid
Now this next part is completely abstruse
These idiots want to ban Dr. Seuss
Six books are offensive and some say anti-Semitic
I am Jewish from birth and just don't get it
Others say he portrays races in a bad way
Six of his books are going away
Our children suffer can't go out to play
The virus has taken so much away
and now beloved books and toys
what's next no music
cause it makes noise?
Dr. Seuss had children learning to rhyme
I read to my patients all the time
Dr. Seuss's characters are cartoon-like and funny
they don't depict racial slurs or money
I'm ashamed of our stupid generation
will they omit history from education
can't study wars of north and south
no more Fred Flinstone with his big mouth
society is truly becoming scary
read what they say bout Little House on the Prarie
and the elephant our beloved Babar
this censorship has gone too far
first the masks next what? Cages?
we are returning to the dark ages
I think all lives matter yay fight for that
But you DO NOT MESS WITH CAT IN THE HAT!!!