Long Campaigning Poems
Long Campaigning Poems. Below are the most popular long Campaigning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Campaigning poems by poem length and keyword.
Green spray paint splattering is all I see on the wall
It’s not art that I see, it’s vandalism! they scream to all
They can’t or they won’t let themselves imagine what truly is presage
Beautiful and unique and of greater importance, graffiti with a message
Sprayed on the concrete walls, is the vibrant green verdant artwork
Campaigning for humanity and natures creatures,
unshrouding harsh realities covered in murk
Mural’s paint disheveled meanders along itselfs esteem
Yet reliant dearly on a lifeless tree standing dormant unseen
You see it looks sadly leafless, branches dry and its greenery gone
A passerby felt Banksy’s vision left an impression is clear, strong
"d e s t r o y i n g the f o r e s t s, d e s t r o y i n g the g r e e n e r y"
And I feel certain that her words bare truth, it’s in the scenery
In 1755 a British army medical surgeon Richard Shuckburgh, while campaigning in
Rensselaer New York, penned the nursery rhyme Yankee Doodle. This was used to mock
the Colonists by the British soldiers, with whom they served in the seven years French and
Indian war.
The word Yankee was of Dutch origin, meaning a simpleton, Doodle
from low German a country hick, and dandy a middle - class man impersonating the
British aristocracy, who with the fashion of the day would wear a macaroni. This was an
elaborate wig embellished with ornate decorations. Also speaking in an effeminate
manner.
After the seven years American war, the British Crown, who now controlled the thirteen
States from New Hampshire in the North to Georgia in the South, increased taxes on the
Colonists, to pay their fair share of the war. On July the fourth 1776 the Continental
Congress declared independence from Great Britain, resulting in many battles and
skirmishes. The words and tune of Yankee Doodle which was once an insult, became a
song of pride, used to taunt the much vaunted power of the British army. After the British
surrendered to the Colonists and the French, many verses were added extolling the
struggles to achieve their ultimate victory. It is sung patriotically in the United States
today, and is the state anthem of Connecticut.
Yankee Doodle went to town
A- riding on a pony,
Stuck a feather in his cap
And called it macaroni.
( chorus )
Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle Dandy,
Mind the music and the step
And with th girls be handy.
Father and I went down to camp,
Along with Captain Gooding,
And there we saw the men and boys
As thick as hasty pudding.
( chorus )
“Election Day”
by: Eric L. Boddie
By plane, train, bus, car or boat
I’ll travel the Earth to win your vote
I can’t say when I’ll finish, but I know when I’ll start
From this day forward, I’ll be campaigning for your heart
If elected, I’ll serve you well to the best of my ability
I’ll deliver your heart to a state of tranquility
There will be no new taxes on your emotions and things there of
I’ll do everything within my power to erase your deficit of love
I don’t have a foreign policy, you are my only concern
Home always comes first, that’s what the other candidates must learn
And in the event of war, you are mine to defend
For your honor I will fight until the very end
Healthcare will be provided, and your economy is sure to flourish
I’ll work my fingers to the bone to ensure that you are well nourished
Your soul will be educated through love, respect and dedication
I’ll declare everyday a holiday for you to show my appreciation
So when Election Day comes, just who will you choose
I’m the best man for your heart, with me, you can’t lose
Let us roll together on the cobbled floors of
Europe and pick up, in our greedy search,
Every fallen crisp and old blade of ancient grass.
Good old restless fleas must not peck at them
Or resume haunting the spectres that follow
Them season after season.
And it must be on a Sunday —post
Sunday school—after the church bell has rung twice;
After the spell of the visiting thaumaturge on the village
Has followed the blight of the late rains of a
Second-rate April.
The scent of the market is heavy with spinning films,
Thus rolling the eyes from streets to canals,
Increasingly stunning the breaths of tipplers
Breathing with the rage of manhattans.
A scalding winter shrouds the open intimacy between fogs
And brumes, made sweet with a hootenanny.
The music is loud but soft, and weakens the restiveness of
A new week bound for ceaseless waves of inked drama.
I hasten to the old secretaire I had descried from the
Buried haunt of writers and scribes — men of quill pen.
Its blend of age, the aroma of cellared wines, and the
Blessedness of regal oak has made my day. . .
Oh, sorry, my Sunday.
“Happy Sunday to one and all!” I cry,
Reaching out to the grandmother pouch of time-bleached leather
Around my dancing waist.
And I shall proceed to buy it with European farthings and African
Cowrie shells, and manillas adorned with loud-campaigning verdigris.
A Flock of Seagulls, singing, wishing ( If I Had A Photograph Of You )
Blondie, reply with "Union City Blue"
City Boy, ringing 5.7.0.5.
Deep Purple, rocking with "Smoke On The Water Live"
Eagles, living " Life In The Fast Lane"
Foreigner, playing the instrumental "Tramontane"
Gerry Rafferty, walking down "Baker Street"
Heart, are just "Crazy On You" rocking sweet
Inxs, with their "Afterglow"
Journey's, " Don't Stop Believin'" under the Bay Bridge flows
Kansas, singing "Carry On Wayward Son"
Lynyrd Skynyrd's, "Red White And Blue" the patriotic one
Meat Loafs, iconic "Bat Out Of Hell"
Nazareth, toured on their "My White Bicycle"
OMD, with "Enola Gay"
Porcupine Tree, with "Trains" let your air guitar say
Queen, with my favourite "From Father To Son"
Rush, and the "Manhattan Project" that blanked out the sun
Styx's, "Blue Collar Man" one of the best that I have heard
Thin Lizzy, top it with "Don't Believe A Word"
UFO rock with "Doctor Doctor" please
Van Halen's "Eruption" Eddie plays with passionate ease
Wishbone Ash, with their "Blowing Free"
XTC, playing Nigel's XTC
Yes, campaigning "Don't Kill The Whale"
ZZ Top, and "Legs" those legs I'd love to scale
Most of my poetry is written to Music, these are some sounds i listened too, to write this ABC
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/music-2.php
November Eighth Election Day
By Franklin Price
11/8/2016
November eighth election day
The end is finally here
To the dirtiest campaigning
Ever run for most the year
Both parties were ferocious
In pursuing president
If they could go a darker place
That's exactly where they went
No subject was verbotten
Whether truth or outright lie
I was so much shocked and awed
Should I laugh or should I cry?
Those days are now behind us
The polls will open soon
With voters waiting at the door
To cast the liar or buffoon
Hate to have to say it
But that is what they are
After you have cast your vote
I'll meet you at the bar
We'll drink the voting day away
We will have done our civil right
Voted who we thought was best
Now we'll drink into the night
Watching TV's first returns
And the exit polling views
Broadcasting and predicting
We may believe it if choose
It is not over 'til it's over
'Til the final vote is cast
Don't let the pundits keep you home
Go 'til the polls are closed at last
No matter who the winner is
The liar or buffoon
We voted, did our duty
The end results apparent soon
When the winner takes the office
And becomes our president
It will soon become quite evident
If our vote was rightly spent
i pick up flowers from the pages of the calendar
and scatter them on the picture-frame
of my dwelling place
sometimes the spring comes
sometimes the buddhist monastery
along the pitch road of the city
thousand counts of uproars
the mess-building that is situated
on the top of the coconut-tree
has also joined the march-past
and who miss the last train
i offer them glasses of tea
as an anti-war campaigning
the plastic-made afternoons
hoist the flag of nail-polish
as there is no water-bottle
around your neck
the assembly of choosing
one’s bridegroom oneself
has rejected you
The sharp suited man
With the Legal Degree
Looks back over years
To pass judgement on me.
While he was getting drunk
In student Uni bars
I was uniformed and fighting
Our country’s various wars.
The greatest impulse
Is the will to survive
To stay in one piece
To get out still alive
If you've not been there
You just can't understand
How fear and anger
Can get out of hand.
A split second’s action
In the heat of a fight
Is now being appraised
As being wrong or right.
Now we’ve both reached
Our late middle age,
Him on his thousands,
Me existing on minimum wage,
Plus the long service pension
They’ve been paying of late,
Not exactly bounteous millions
Reward for serving the state.
And he has his portfolio
Of cases, no win no fee,
And he is trying to make
A criminal of me.
In thanks for the security
For him and his ilk
That our actions earned,
Now he’s taken the Silk,
He puts our actions
Under the spotlights
As a campaigning lawyer in
The cause of Human rights.
I was a volunteer so I don’t
Expect or need his gratitude
Just maybe some compassion
To temper his attitude.
I scream in pain at the memory
Of things that I’ve done
While he waxes fat on
The fees that he’s won.
It’s a strange justice that
My efforts set him free
To harass and pursue
Combat veterans like me.
That sharp suited man
With the Legal Degree,
With the benefit of hindsight,
Passes judgement on me.
This is not about me, but the many Veterans who for years have lived under this threat. Nobody condones War Crimes, but we do ask for a level playing field and equality of treatment.
Clippity Cloppity
Emily Davison
confronted race horses
losing her life
dissident suffragette
indiscriminately
committed sabotage
chaos and strife
Hickory Dickory
Leonora Cohen
hunger strike ends with the
cat and mouse ploy
campaigning for justice
legitimisation
Scapegrace to magistrate
ending in joy
1 / 28 / 2021.
During the 1913 Epsom Derby, Emily Davison threw herself under King George V horse
Anmer. Dying from her injuries 4 days later.
Leonora Cohen in 1913 vandalised a display case containing the Crown Jewels in the
Tower of London. Defending herself, she was released on a technicality. After another act
of vandalism, she went on hunger strike while in prison, but was released early. This was
due to Lord Asquith's cat and mouse act. Giving prisoners time to recover, preventing
needless deaths while incarcerated. Leonora was trampled on by a mounted police horse,
during one protest march. She died aged 105 , serving as magistrate for 25
years and receiving the O.B.E. incidently she was born in the city of Leeds, where I too was
born and bred.
Our Black Lives Matter team was hosting
another monthly forum on racism,
as regularly scheduled,
anti-patriarchal business as usual.
The facilitator opened with a question,
asking for a show of hands.
"If you had to choose
between two nominees for public office,
or any form of executive leadership,
one promising multicultural compassion
and the other pledged to national or corporate strength
of will-power,
one emphasizing win/win care-giving and -receiving
and the other loyally getting the practical
win/lose competitively prioritized jobs done
as quickly as possible,
which would you vote for?"
Republicans in our gathering,
although not many,
favored win/lose realistic and efficient will-power,
and the Democrats favored win/win compassion,
and the large majority of Independents
either didn't raise their hands at all,
or raised their hands both times,
or raised both hands in a fist
and just left and right retained positions of resistance.
The facilitator followed up,
"Now, what if a Green Party candidate
integrated these two cultures;
Campaigning for a resilient public/private health care climate
of strong-willed compassion
in solidarity with all Earth's balanced
co-empowering
deep and wide
networked inter-relationships?"
For this, an arcing, unsnarcing, rainbow ovation,
and little more unhealthy
elitist
business as usual.