Long Carers Poems
Long Carers Poems. Below are the most popular long Carers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carers poems by poem length and keyword.
Americans, Algerians, Australian aborigines,
Corrupt leaders of the world involved in illegal activities.
Bloodthirsty bullies brazenly bombing bystanders,
Militaries full of corrupt army commanders.
Charities for children, carers in communities,
Third world countries deprived of equal opportunities.
Doctors, dentists, drugs, disability and depression,
An angry generation full of negative aggression.
Evil egotistic eejits entering elections,
Profiteering politicians with the right connections.
Foul mouthed fools fighting over fossil fuels,
Crooked government clowns creating their own rules.
Greedy gangs gambling, goons glamorising globalisation,
A sad and unfair planet, full of frustration.
History of horrific holocausts, hate crimes, hard times,
Skull and bones, secret societies, illuminati hand signs.
Isolation, intimidation, immigration, inaccurate information,
Hiroshima and Nagasaki still suffer from radiation.
Judge and jury, jam-packed jail cells,
Relentless rebels not doing it for the medals.
Kalashnikov culture, killers keep killing,
The reality of climate change is extremely chilling.
Lame loud mouthed liars living in luxury,
Corrupt politicians should be in custody.
Microchips, machine guns, military madness in the Middle East,
The rich get richer while homelessness continues to increase.
NASA, NATO, new world order, negative nonsense,
Celebrating Columbus Day, do they have any conscience?
Outrageous organisations occupying oil fields,
Double dealing leaders involved in shady deals.
Pitiful pessimists publishing pointless propaganda,
While aids and malaria increases in Uganda.
Quality over quantity or quantity over quality,
An overused phrase that’s used too commonly.
Radicals rallying, ready for revolution,
Air, water, soil and radioactive pollution.
Sick, sadistic sinners selfishly selling slaves,
Fredrick Douglass must be turning in his grave.
Terrible terrorists taking over territories,
Religious beliefs still creating enemies.
Unconscious unkind useless United Nations,
CNN plus Fox News equals bias news stations.
Various victims viciously victimised,
Deadly missiles falling from the skies.
Wars, weapons, whistles blowers on the World Wide Web,
While others sell their souls just to become a celeb.
I knew my ancestry and my dad was a joiner,
But verged on disowning my mum for labour,
Not married in history yet throbbing with spark,
Love, truth, kindness fibered the gelled dark.
A stunner - intelligent, muscular but sensitive,
The royal in me saw the people as plaintiff,
As steering the vile lark of determining troughs,
In a grass-roots democracy to nullify the toffs.
Prolific at speeches, education never lacked,
Peeking as child into the ear in discern I jacked,
I knew nothing was unproven, cleanliness won,
Joules inside quenched the human sown son.
In the health profession I beamed, overcame, won,
Differences waged exacted to desecrate the sum -
Poor, minority, stealthy and dragon ignored asunder,
No equality known to hook the solid, base shelter.
Mobile, but wherever I tread met haters and lovers,
Pranced about suckered by vulgar ruling bearers;
Taught children life and followers’ carers’ quick,
Stead ahead hailed by the people as their wick.
Freedom held my blink until shown as the trait -
Real by weight for the sick to crop myself as bait.
Therefore human aim, space, time shouted ball,
‘Cos the individual is right, by the pinnacle, wall.
My twelve friends accepted my way and my mind,
Chose to love crook, crank or by altruism behind,
Meant rear - banned and ashore, but fully sentient,
No restorative, candid deeds to strike ambivalent.
People glued came to see me - the Nile drawn,
Dealt troubles without ways n’ routes to spawn;
Yet state and common folks both, themselves,
Killed me for a movement shooting with shelves.
But those many who loved me would never forget,
Forged sail by the integral identity never truly set:
They said afterwards that my substance, way, holds,
It’s life that affords me, not the shined, bold folds.
There was a court case and everything, a slot,
When they asked if I was a god, king, mad, a shot:
Dumb. Bitter I’d gone and cut short, they said I’d live,
Within them as their memory as the cultural give.
My existence is not a point - your location, for always:
It’s not belief in me that matters but it's your sways;
Your life is important and it's your existence that calls,
MLK, Lincoln, Walker ball for the sentient, rugged stalls.
Who am I?
Birdman
Bold Dewi Jones would leave his home
first thing every morning,
and trot him down to Towy Wood
just as day was dawning,
and there he filled his Tesco bag,
five pence from any store,
with chickweed celandine and seed
and other weeds galore.
Then he fed them to his finches
to peck at in the cage,
while he ate his Kellog Cornflakes
and read the sporting page.
When Dewi was a kid at school
he hadn’t many toys,
and on the farm out in the sticks
there were no other boys,
so the woods became his playground,
a bird his childhood friend,
and he played a game with finches
he prayed would never end.
Their songs were short machinegun bursts
that echoed through the wood,
and Dewi, in green camouflage,
would stalk like Robin Hood.
A grown-up now, he made a frame
that lay beneath a net,
and then with trails of wild bird seed
a crafty trap he set.
That’s how he caught his lovely birds,
cunning if not clever,
and neighbours came along to praise
Dewi-boys endeavour.
Yet we all Knew that in the wood,
birds sang like heaven’s choir,
while, in the confines of the cage,
finches were much shyer.
Now Dewi’s wife, religious was,
chapel every morning,
in Aberystwyth born and bred,
should have been a warning.
Though pleasant to the roving eye,
pretty as a flower,
like milk upon a summer’s day
she curdled and went sour.
“It’s wings God gave,” his wife would scream,
“so birds can rise and fly;
and nature gave them songs to praise
the wonders of the sky.”
One day while on his morning rounds
bold-Dewi had a stroke.
“An awful thing,” the village said,
“for such a lovely bloke.”
No muscle could the birdman move,
eyelids would not flutter.
The voice that once trilled, “Sosban Fach,”
not a word could utter.
We don’t know why God struck him down,
spite – or was it pleasure?
What e’er the Lord was dishing out,
Dewi got full measure.
Now Dewi’s sitting in a chair,
just staring into space,
and carers who come twice a day,
pour soup into his face.
His wife just up and left him,
no fuss or angry words,
just said, “I hate to see you there,
caged up like your birds.”
>Although I love writing, I would also like my books to sell. Then I can grant my wife her wishes and buy her a house by the sea. And if there is enough in the kitty one for me. I never miss a chance of free publicity. Last year our local BBC Radio Station, had an open day. I was raising funds in a small way for their charity of the year Suffolk Family Carers, So I was given a ticket by the nice lady on reception. Lots of local celebrities were there and me. Tractor Boy is football spokesman.
Have you met tractor boy?
I have and him perhaps did annoy.
I criticised them men in blue.
Well it's something, controversial to do.
Was because I'm a writer see.
Wanted some free publicity.
But when him I did meet.
He was sitting, not on his feet..
Was on a certain radio station open day.
The name I'm not allowed to say.
As when on their Facebook page did write.
They struck me off, they did one night.
Was only in a light-hearted way.
I mentioned my Smarty dog's I say.
Alright they spoke, both night and day.
Usually agreeing with what I did say.
But now my laptop's sick and away.
At the menders now I say.
So I don't worry night or day.
About that page, where I have no say.
I can get on with my Smarty book.
But at my files, when I did look.
I see I finished his latest book.
Oh this poem was about Tractor Boy.
I used his name, just as a ploy.
Just so you would read, about Smarty.
And his author, blinking me.
I'll try a short poem.
Having a tiring day.
Come on hands, knees and toes.
As upstairs I climb with those.
When day ends and I retire.
Where can I find new ones to hire?
As when that final step I take.
Make my weary way to bed.
I wish it was a stairless house.
A bungalow and not a house.
I know I used the house word twice.
Both the same reason, not poetically nice.
But if a bungalow I had got.
My hands, knees and toes, knackered, would be not.
I know that last line, sounded not right.
But was how I felt, is that alright?
But as I climb those stairs each night.
A bungalow, would serve me right.<
Form:
There once came a moment in my life
When I came to realize the reason why I took birth
I was walking down the road after a long day
And an elderly woman came close to me and these words did say
Pray, could you be kind and give me some money
My children and myself are all hungry
We have been left to ourselves, my husband ran off with another
And I'm trying to get a job, but so far, I've had not any offer
I took pity on her and handed her a two hundred rupee note
Hoping that, there would soon come to her, a change of fate
I then walked on home and tended to my own woes
Soon, I completely forgot about this woman and her pitiful cause
But then, came to me, around six months later, an elegantly dressed woman
She walked over and greeted me with the warmth of the sun
Thank you she said, thank you so much for your generosity
Thanks to you, I fed myself, I fed my children and even tried a chance at the lottery
Why, would you believe it
My ticket number won the jackpot
I won a huge amount of money, too much for myself and my kids
I bought a house and could offer my children more than I ever imagined
Now, I have even set up a home
For those, who, like I was once, had no luck next to their name
We had a nice chat, then she left and I took a decision
That I would help those in need more often
I felt good about my action
It gave me a sort of liberation
Why, I had found my aim, my meaning
Soon, the lady in her home and her carers was I helping!
Yes, helping people reach for their stars
Does give me unending joys
Helping people cross the well set borders
Does give me solace and comforting shudders
Now, I do be an active member of my society
Yes, now I do make a must to tend to those drowning in the waters of poverty!
Hoping they shall someday turn into Kings and Queens as well
For such does show that life does not be always so cruel!
For Contest Something Seemingly Insignificant and Unexpected Changed My Life
Written on June 24 2016
Why was my whole special school life,
An interpretation of nature and school?
A philosophical contemplation and analysis,
A freeway inquiry into the education tool.
Because the god concept was lain out,
On the household table, delicately spread,
I was sharp at social phenomenon,
Even as a primary child was not off my head.
When I journeyed down the corridors,
Slowly, because of my disability,
I was more often than not on my own,
‘Cos the others would show off their mobility.
So I thought about the politics,
Of the special school and our integration right,
Our need of ramps and disabled toilets,
The importance of everybody’s mindset height.
I classed the whole organisational structure as wrong,
For using the carers as playtime supervisors,
‘Cos in my old nursery school the teachers contravened,
In any tit-for-tat playground misdemeanours.
The teachers knew us in the classroom,
So adjudicated fairly and with respect,
Were able to administer justice,
Wherever there was a point of regret.
The carers were just not on my level,
And you had to do what they said,
Which overshadowed my whole experience,
Which made me much see red.
It was believed that the carers had a light on,
Because they scribed for us in maths,
But your profession level sets your reception,
Of high-flyers’ stares and laughs.
I mean, I didn’t ever laugh at them,
For their low rank and position,
But that just meant they never put me with,
My parents speech and religion.
But I considered myself determined philosophically,
Not in the free-will line of thought camp,
And just needed a man, board or committee,
To rejuvenate myself and amp.
So I often spoke with the school doctor,
The boss of the cliques and staff,
But the other pupils resented it,
Laughing at my physical prospects, chaff.
When your life does not go right,
Insist, if you can, on calling the shots,
Make appointments with the gods,
And beam with importance watts.
A magic wand in the right hand creates, inadvertently,
the jewels of the night in untold millions,
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A fairy casts many spells, their unused dust turns to stars,
each one a twinkling sun, each has a solar system,
a Wizard too cast a few, his unused dust turns to planets,
we live on one, the planet earth, now a has-been Utopia,
a black witches spell, beware a curse, their unused dust,
black holes of hell, well those that get sucked in don't return to tell,
now pixies they cast spells as well, their unused dust
turns to distant stars, whole galaxies, new life no one knows,
elves, they are stars in their own right, carers of the fairy kingdom,
gnomes, not as we imagine, stately lords and ladies,
oh yes, they do they ware those Noddy caps of blue,
they too cast spells, their unused dust turn into skies,
pigmented black and blue, night and day, its true,
then there is me, a poet, I practice magic with words,
like stars, I try to make them glisten,
I have had one or two that have ascended, found glory,
but me a star well that's another story
perhaps I do shine, but not with the twinkle of a star,
more like the moon, that lights the night
for all true lovers,
has the question been answered, why are there stars,
well no, that's a question many scientists still ponder.
11th June 2018
Why are there stars poetry contest - Sponsored by Julia Ward
the crowd dispersed in floods of tears
disappointed that the spectacle was over
when madness resolved and sanity became restored
the clown’s persona now unmasked
make up made down for a grimace
a silent scream half aborted in the arena
masqueraded agony exchanged for a smirk
at last the lions would not have to
jump through hoops of unhinged fire
snakes now willing to shed burnt skin
participated in naked laughter and joy
the stupid August survived the fall
as he explored the autumn of life
squashed a bit at first when he
caught a trapeze artist who missed the net
and disentangled the remains of the capture
dazzled a skimpy dressed con artist
removed daggers from her torso
careful not to impale herself in the process
of self-targeted remorse as poniards denuded the truth
diabolo’s juggling halted in mid-air
alluding to the illusion of impermanent time
but even that would not pacify the spectators
who felt dispossessed by their diabolical fare
elephants trumpeted a final crescendo
when the bears chased the circus director
into submission pleading for mercy and regret
but the fleas feasted on his disingenuous stutter
outside the tent Tarot card readers
indulged in hellish merriment
proclaimed the end of the world
testified to the power of Satan
as the fool revealed himself
for he had always been a wise jester
when kids cried for ice cream and candy cotton
wool fell from the eyes of their carers and
salted caramel and strawberry flavours
melted in the bright sunshine of liberation
the show is not over until the lady bird sings
black on red polka dots cherished their wings
spanning the end of imprisoning entertainment
dismayed and heavy-hearted the rabble
roused from mischief imposed
admitted defeat from pandemonium
and had to find their own meaning of living
Thank you for being my voice when I felt scared
Thank you for inspiring me when I had no help here
When you have no role models in your real life you have to find them elsewhere
so thank you Eminem for being my voice when I felt scared
I was raised in foster care because my parents didn't want to care for their child
I was lonely and angry at the world so it was rare that I'd smile
I fell in love with your music when I first heard it
I was only 8, So I mainly enjoyed the swearing as I was too young to understand the verses
The pain and anger in your voice when you rap was something I could relate to
The best thing about music is the places that it can take you
Your lyrics and words gave me strength and courage to overcome my broken heart and pained mind
You had the ability to make me laugh and cry with the same rhyme
I remember wishing that my dad would show up when I was sitting in the children's home
Not one picture of him but my room was covered in your posters and I'd play your music when I was feeling alone
Some of the carers said you were a bad influence, and that you use too many bad words
I laughed at them because they know nothing if that's all they took from an Eminem verse
you even said a million times you would say things just to annoy people and you were just having fun
Maybe I related to you so much because you also had problems with your mum
Your lyrics gave me courage to move past the things I cried tears over
I'm proud of both of us because I'm now 7 years free from Self-harm and you're 11 years sober
Thank you for being my voice when I felt scared
Thank you for inspiring me when I had no help here
When you have no role models in your real life you have to find them elsewhere
So thank you Eminem for being my voice when I felt scared
[Wrote this during Covid in a ‘Ring a ring a roses’ frame
of mind. Wasn’t sure what archaic rules were in place around
the world, so sat on it. Basically… in England, ‘other people’
were ‘death on legs’. This may or may not sound amusing
but it’s pretty much how it was… laugh ye not!]
———*———
Keep your grandma distant for theres ‘nineteen’ around
If she dies don’t watch somebody put her in the ground
If it's short, feel lucky for you may get up and walk
If it's long the reaper’s raven may decide to squark
Air holes aren't at liberty when it goes here and there
Mister, it ain't normal to go breathing everywhere
Should you see me coming take a breath and amble on
And don’t you dare release it till I’m quite a long way gone
Cough cough - too much wheezing
Sniff sniff - most displeasing
Croak croak - time for bed, Sir
Till you’re dead or better
Grandma’s in the shadow of the steeple, yeah
Grandma’s with the other people resting, there
I wonder if they put her in clean underwear
I wonder if she wonders if we just don’t care
Grandma’s in the shadow of the steeple, yeah
I wonder if they took the time to do her hair
Maybe I could ask the ones who took her there
But they’re not taking visitor’s from anywhere
Cough cough - too much wheezing
Sniff sniff - most displeasing
Croak croak - time for bed, Sir
Till you’re dead or better
Grandma’s in the shadow of the steeple, yeah
Nearby, carers sporting masks and safety wear
Cannot stand too close; the law says, ‘Don’t you dare!’
She stands alone to watch them bury grandpa there.
Cough cough - too much wheezing
Sniff sniff - most displeasing
Croak croak - time for bed, Sir
Till you’re dead or better