Long Campaigned Poems
Long Campaigned Poems. Below are the most popular long Campaigned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Campaigned poems by poem length and keyword.
Secrets
they live
they do not
go to graves
with you
they thrive
and turn
into bigger lies
they grow
they won't die with you
add ons spinning into
bigger webs
after your dead
fabricating taller
tales out of tall tales
drink a lotta black
coffee and pray.
that the baby you said
was his- Well he-
He has to go
to heaven
to his heavenly
father to find out
who his earthly
father really is
Child confused
the only thing that
really died with
you was the truth
Secrets live on ...
turns into a mystery-
then becomes
apart of history
because you disowned
the gospel and
campaigned for silence
and gossip got elected
to become your legacy
and secrets live on...
for the innocent to face
head on...and the
lies live on
and take on...
a life of their own.
Form:
South Carolina Done
Huntsman took his ride to the Carolina coast
Campaigned a few days then decided he was toast.
Perry traveled south and spent plenty of loot
Then endorsed another cause the crowds wouldn’t root.
Paul rested in Texas, showed up a few days late
But his fans clapped and cheered wildly at the debate.
Santorum worked hard in his embroidered sweater vest
But could not convince conservatives he was best.
Romney stuttered about taxes, had worried face
Establishment squirmed as he badly lost the race.
Gingrich endured attacks from a bitter ex-wife
Seized the moment in debates, voters gave new life.
Impeachment of the Trump
By Franklin Price
9/25/2019
Trump is not establishment
Was never meant to win
It's time now to impeach him
Put him outside once again
Matters not he was elected
And the people had their say
Was per the Constitution
The Electoral College way
Trump campaigned the country
Went to States both large and small
Knew he had to win the College
For the people one and all
He spoke loud and he spoke strong
Where we're now, is not our fate
The way we've done our country's wrong
It's time again to make it great
In every State he visited
His message was the same
At the end he had won twenty-nine
And POTUS was his name
Will be three years, and very soon,
Since Trump became Exec
The left has tried, without success,
To string him by the neck
They've circled all their wagons
Now they control the House
They've gotten down and dirty
With Trump, his kids and spouse
And when he rises up and tweets
Gives their leaders all a name
They shout, and say that isn't fair
That's not how we play the game
They say he's acting juvenile
Should have left that in grade ten
Now they're trumping up impeachment
To flush his childish head again
Close to election time, we have the chance
to hear the candidates for office speak,
or “stump,” in nearby towns, to give their stance
on issues and improvements that they seek,
to promise they will strengthen all that’s weak.
The term “stump speech” dates back two hundred years,
when it was not used figuratively;
and those of the American Frontier
who ran for office stood, for all to see,
on tree stumps while they campaigned movingly.
All-day affairs complete with food and beer,
these rural fetes were rollicking and loud.
The speakers then (as now) tried hard to steer
the votes their way and captivate the crowd.
By hecklers’ jeers, the brave ones were not cowed.
With jokes and boasts, some livened every speech.
Sharp jabs at rivals filled the country air.
As time progressed, some speakers chose to reach
the crowd, not from a tree stump—but a chair
or barrel. Such scenarios weren’t rare.
Historical accounts of stumping state
the names of stand-out speakers in that day.
Three skilled men who excelled in a debate—
Abe Lincoln, Stephen Douglas, Henry Clay—
were stumpers whose wise words held unique sway.
Today some folks flock to the county fair,
not just for entertainment but to see
the candidates debating with great flair,
expounding on the facts; but they won’t be
atop tree stumps to shout, “Please vote for me!”
February 1, 2022
entered in Emile Pinet's Quintain (English) Contest
Yearning to realize her dream
Misty did all the right things
Joined the literary associations
Scooped up the hottest hardbacks
Hung out in dank cellar restaurants
where the best food on the menu left grease stains
Told all her friends ‘I just can’t tonight
I’ve almost finished chapter six’
A blatant lie, stuck on page one
forgotten how to have fun…
But the dream dies hard and she finally broke through
a feeler from ‘The Atlantic’ for her 'latest' romance novel
Alas, ‘feelers’ come and feelers go
So at age 45, with nothing to show
She campaigned and won the race
for Mayor of Boulder, Colorado
Bragging that her parents funded her entire campaign
and, oh yes, changing her first name to Mary Jane...
So, instead of writing ‘The Great American Novel’
Mary Jane’s directing it, petal to the metal of Boulder, CO's throttle
An old world united.
Attributes not known from the peace we campaigned.
Enforced into an unknown war we currently endeavour.
Utmost bower bird tactics, the uninvited dominantly proceed
From above, streams vibrations throughout every sense of our actualities.
Days follow nights accompanying collective conceptualisations.
Wanting correlative wants with downhearted, optimistic, realism.
Will I again feel wind or sunshine rays on my face?
What extant future awaits if triumphant?
Questions of an unrevealed fate retain minds insecurely occupied.
This dark establishment suffocates this uncertain future.
Artificial lights guide our way, breathing air amassed in dirt.
Youthful generations accept their existence as studious to no other.
Below the surface, we crusade to combat & reclaim.
Patience furthermore perseverance.
Determined, we manoeuvre to arise.
A NEW world united.
Standing up for Minorities
A minority is black, not white.
A minority is she, not he.
A minority is alternative, not straight.
A minority is poor, not rich.
A minority is powerless, not powerful.
A minority is homeless, not housed.
A minority is addicted, not clean.
A minority is immigrant, not resident.
A minority is mother, not father.
A minority is sister, not brother.
A minority is unwanted pregnancy, not birth.
A minority is clean air, not pollution.
A minority is rising tides, not still waters.
A minority is extinction, not existence.
A minority is over-population, not subsistence.
These causes make no sense.
They have neither rhyme nor reason.
Expect not God's defense,
if you blast out curses and commit holy treason.
The unrighteous knew not God,
so they made laws for themselves.
They campaigned for justice,
and unwittingly chose hell.
"Get right with God," is topic "minority."
change your focus inward
and the topic of worlds will be dispelled.
by,
Martin Braun
6/11/2020
538.
The 4x4 Year
2016…Myself is done with CapSU…Sayonara, Encapsudia!
2016…My sister graduated from college…Adios, Purisima!
2016…My father still works…in the government!
2016…My mother still serves…the church & convent!
2016…I became…MiJoRdGr!
2016…I campaigned for…MiJoRdGr!
2016…I had kittens named…MiJoRdGr!
2016…I conceived dream business called…MiJoRdGr!
2016…My country has a new President…Du30!
2016…My country has a new Force…Supermajority!
2016…My country has another Olympic Medalist…Heidilyn!
2016…My country has Kylie Verzosa as…Ms. International 2016!
2016…I realized the remnants of Encantadia & Capsu-Dumarao…4!
2016…I realized the divisions of Hogwarts & Panay…4!
2016…I realized the Faces of Azrael & Math Operations…4!
2016…I realized the Apocalypse Horsemen & MiJoRdGr Presidentiables…4!
-12/31/2016
(Dumarao)
They make the stereotype of the loud and angry black woman seem bad
But why has nobody questioned who made us like that
The language they use to belittle us
Our mouths hand stitched with silence
And the box of requirements we are shoved into
Threatened by the mark of violence
Yes I am loud and no I will never be quiet
The fire you tried to extinguish burns brighter
I will not be condemned to a life of empty sound
Just because you don't like how one word from me can crumble your empire
Built of stolen voice and compliance
Yes I am loud and yes I won't be silent
Our voices the threat to your generational violence
And if me being black and proud
Equals loudness
Then I am so proud of my blackness
Because my voice echos generations of black power
Of words spoken through the strength of those before me
Yes I am loud but that is my legacy woke up to see
Another death, another black body
Yes I am angry and have every right to be
When all we have done is emit a welcoming energy
And we're met with colonisation and inequality
Not to forget your continuous brutality
Yes I am angry, you will not make me the villain
When you are the ones with a history of violence
Calling us criminals
Can you not see the irony
When we present peace
And you present inferiority masked by a face of envy
Yes I am angry, I have every right to be
You call us poor but trap us in poverty
We shared our wealth then stole all our money
You claimed democracy then campaigned tyrany
Then take the opportunity
To abuse your power against us once we claim mutiny
So yes I am angry as I should
When you killed my people
But didn't even have the guts to say sorry
Yes I am angry and every black person Is allowed to be
Because we deserve reparations and we deserve an apology
Yes I am loud
And yes I am angry
That is who I am and I accept that fully
192.
Oh God, I Beg!
Oh God to You I strongly implore
To strengthen the throne of our governor
And in his domain to accept me once more
For when I have left from his secure
On my quest for a greener pasture
I had carelessly bitten their enemy's lure
Oh God to You I sincerely pray
To raise up ABS-CBN like GMA
And their big pipz to me shall never play
For I accused them of being unfair
By having with a party a something affair
I hope to that matter they'll put no more care
Oh God to You I truthfully entreat
To set Liberal Party where no one can beat
And that from me they'll never retreat
For when I tried to abandon them
And acted as a rebel with mayhem
I've proven I can‘t live without their tandem
Oh God to You I firmly beseech
To make PNoy's regime remarkably rich
And the Straight Path no one shall breach
For when I campaigned against him not to be our king
It was all propaganda, personal there's nothing
I was just in my career a newly hatched birdling.
-11/02/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Twilight Poems Collection