Long Carriage Poems
Long Carriage Poems. Below are the most popular long Carriage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carriage poems by poem length and keyword.
Undeniably these are weird times for US all
Maybe they have been for a very long time
Where the hard working and law abiding
Are used and abused, ridiculed and punished
But now it’s beyond weird
Where those who come illegally
Are given a red carpet
Flown around, deposited at five star hotels
Given thousands a month in handouts
And slaps on the wrist
When they steal and assault anyway
In thanks for our kindness.
And when we, bearing the costs, complain
Then we are the bigots, the racists
Fascists, and, well frankly, garbage.
While those who come seeking refuge
Are recognized as the princes and princesses
They really are
In this fairy tale fantasy of El Norte.
Viva la revolucion for it is here and now
Forget your protests
Dance and celebrate while you can
For in the morning there will be work to do
And streets to clean, of all these rats
And their rotting pumpkin carriage.
(11/9/24)
Old Dogs and Children**
Woke up
always a plus.
Took care of business.
Found my teeth -
a must.
Brushed them…..off.
Made coffee
meditated on its scent
and promise.
Met the dog at the door
(no explanation necessary)
Made breakfast for two.
Exchanged greetings
grumps, grunts and
hugs with wife,
confidante and lover
(all at the same time)
Thought about-
-cutting the grass
-washing the truck
-bathing the dog
-planting some flowers
-colonizing the moon
Woke up - refreshed
Didn’t do any of the above.
Visited five month old granddaughter
-changed diapers
-pushed carriage
-sang songs
-Grandma fed her
-changed diapers
-played on floor(with baby)
-stayed on floor(to recover)
Returned home
Made coffee
meditated on its scent
and promise.
Met the dog – again.
Shared a quiet(?) supper.
Exchanged good nights
grumps, grunts and
hugs with wife,
confidante and lover.
John G. Lawless
5/15/2015
**with apologies to Tom T. Hall
Song title “Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine
submitted to – Today I Accomplished – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Sara Kendrick
https://youtu.be/QBXZ4Eahr_g
Every human is an artist. The dream of your life is to make beautiful art.
Marriage adds celebration to life.
Music adds life to celebrations.
Mehndi Adorns the hands and life takes on a new colour.
We start at engagement,we begin at wedding to make a beautiful ending.
The highest happiness on earth is the happiness of marriage.
When it seems like nobody cares,Allah AlMighty cares.
When it seems like nobody is there for you,Allah AlMighty is ready to listen.
The Mehndi is going to get etched to bring deep red shade in your hands now.
My friends are saying that now flower buds.
Are going to bloom in your hands.
Your heart,mind & soul and your life.
Are going to receive new happiness now.
O fresh bride.
Beauty attracts the eye but personality captures the heart.
O Dear friend,To take you away, your real husband is about to come.
He will come and hold your both hands, the shehnaai(trumpets) will resound in the courtyards.
Your mother and maternal aunt sing, your sister and sister-in-law sing.
In hope that the Mehndi will bloom in your hand and brings great color to the fresh bride.
Your Paternal aunts sing, Your grandmothers sing.
In hope that the Mehndi will become heart pleasing and fresh your mind and decorate the hands of fresh bride.
May the Mehndi enhance your beauty and improve your complexion.
Stars shall come down into the fresh bride's scarf.
The musical
Instruments, the guests in wedding procession, a horse carriage and an elephant.
All these your husband will bring them to your own house, O fresh bride.
When he will look at your Mehndi etched limbs,then he will put his heart on your feet,secretly,O fresh bride.
I cannot promise to solve all your problems,
I can only promise that i will never let you face them alone.
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
I remember when we took that trip to Florida
It was late summer and Labor Day weekend
It was our first anniversary celebration trip
We stayed in the honeymoon penthouse suite
Our days were full of exploring antique stores
And the fun popular tourist sites we found
Our nights were full of passion and romance
A trip full of hope and dreams for our future
We found some garage sales along the way
And some rare 1800’s antique carriage lanterns
They had beveled glass, gold and brass accents
We decided to buy the pair to display at home
Years passed and many anniversaries too
Our lanterns have weathered many storms
They are strong resilient and still work today
A great symbol of our love and commitment
Sunday has circled here:
Our nation bids farewell
To a great soul endeared
With devotion that tells.
Body lying in state:
Half a million sad hearts
Came to see and relate
Solemn "Goodbyes" to part.
Solemn the vigil guards,
Bowed in profound salute;
Keep company with heart,
Watch discipline salute.
So many hands did spread
Goodwill to help and move
As each to each did great
To bear sad loss with proof.
The Singapore Spirit
Lives with your memory;
Your wisdom and your wit
Lives on in our stories.
Solemn this sad Sunday:
The air feels heavy now
As departure moves play,
Gratitude greets endow.
As your hearse takes the road,
We line the route to see
The grim gun carriage load;
Rest in peace Mister Lee.
We salute your fond trust:
A twenty-one gun volley,
An overhead fly past,
A naval sail by calmly.
Sad Singapore Sunday,
Mind moving moody maze;
Dear departure displays,
Choice claims clear changing craze.
As you go away Sir,
The public gels as one;
Your final glory stirs,
Your passing said and done!
So many tributes dear
Tell of your devotion;
Attend your farewell here,
Eulogies praise action.
Your Singapore lives on
With a harmonious air;
We breathe here and beyond,
Attend to sure affairs.
All words fall flat and fail
To tell of your grand feats;
Yes your message prevails
As history will teach.
And so the curtain falls
Upon your grand life work;
We feel and heed the call
To surmount pains and quirks.
Leon Enriquez
29 March 2015
Singapore
The horses driven hard into the cold night rain
The wooden wheels groan under the strain
On the run now with no where to go
I got out of the village before they would not let me go
Mistaken they take me for someone else from before
Someone else killed those people but for it they want me to suffer more
This hijacked carriage with its rose coloured woods
Now I flee for my life - stealing to make good!
The moor looks bleak at each point of the star
Black wind and cold rain are always dragging me down
Now the horses need rest and I know I must give them that
The farm gate unlocked I dismantle the beasts from the cart
Into shelter I find for them a big old barn
I say thanks to the horses for running so hard
We share accommodation until this thunder stops
The dawn light breaks the night and on my own feet I try to get lost
Not stopping now until several hundred miles have passed
I get used to living outside in the fields of long grass
For I know that for a ship to carry me so, so far away
Work I must find so that I can secure the routes pay
For I've had it with this place and its people who want to treat me like a dog
I will start afresh in another country, leave this damned place and its smog
At this very moment coolies screamed, ‘train',
We scampered packing up our bags and bales,
A long-awaited train’s a certain bane,
But this one turned a boon, such were the tales,
An English gentleman hailed our hero
From his carriage and we parted to go
Our diverse ways—to our cattle-class seat,
There was no chance to know who that man was,
Nor yet more light on his tale could be lit,
Indeed, never-ending may prove some pause.
Some truths, some lies of life lie ever so,
Maybe, he took us as credulous fools,
A painful nerve and anxious seldom cools,
Some truths and lies born are never to know,
Perchance the man minted fun at our cost,
And damsels in distress lay buried, lost.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana, divided in I to XIV parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
Two women fighting over last cart
Unsophisticated, brawling, stubborn,
Short. Up rolls a knight, armor shining bright,
“Why d’ost thou fight til the death o’er singular
shining carriage? Mine has wings...fly ‘way,
take thee for thy miscarriage.
i shall tarry for one of my own.”
Their heads, ready to roll, explode, quibbling,
quizzical like two German Shepherds —
ears antennae’d for radar, heads cocked
ready to shoot, surprised, surrendering
to the prize — shoulders like majestic highs
walk into the sunset reprise.
The sun sparkles like diamonds
On the suited knight, night’s been saved
from a ridiculous fight.
What other maelstrom resides in the honey jar?
3/13/2020
On such an important day when daylight wakes up in the morning with a blank screen looking in my face and the carriage is dragging the midday race, and colorful flags flying high in the sky while the message hope lingers on the seat of wisdom muttering a faint monologue through its hot breath.
I held on to my cup of tea and looked all around for some company, but all the TV networks have gone astray with live location shots lingering at the back, where have the entire journalist crew gone, they have been waiting there before dawn, whispering a message in my ears that was very clear.
The cinematographer is standing tall, with scripts and sketches of the brawl and significant shots and direction written on the bottom of the shoe entrance and exit, the timing and the clue, the location and the news, everything was on time for the evening news.
I could not read one word on the shoe and could not understand it on the news because it was coded with caterpillar sauce, while pound shilling and pence danced the shimmy, Euro dollars and cents are making a big investment. I watched the Japanese yen running in the den and Chinese Renminbi shouting for glory.
The TV screen is hanging all around and the blank screen erected on the wall is groaning in the background and the soldiers parading in the back are having fun. An old man with a beard and hoody covering his ears suddenly appears on the screen held a lantern. The light illuminated. And the old man suddenly faded away it is the miracle in the dream.
You scream and you shout everyday about privacy invasion, but it is the TV that causes you to receive numerous victories, we are not going back to the old age when cats used to scale the tree to hide from dogs and rats use to dash around the corner at the sight of a cat. Now cats and dogs can live together, and cats don’t eat rats anymore for supper. I have much more to offer that you cannot see, the gate is open come around and meet me; a cake is hidden at the bottom of the well and the pirate dish with a symbolic message carves out on top, is waiting patiently.
And as for that old pair of shoes you can stitch the message on the side in a word or two and hope that your dream will come true. I want a brand-new TV set before I place the bet.
Poison onion rings;
Bunion on a sling;
Rustic carriage bolts;
Shoe string eating, antelopes;
what's the matter
what's the matter
whose ya mad at, son;
what's the matter;
what's the matter;
whose ya mad at, son;
when it all settles, when the feet hit the dust;(this ole earth)
and the horizon falls from the skies. . .
it's on, it's on it's all a matter of
it's all a matter of dawn;
the Matters of dawn
Cankered bison crying;
While dancing under the heated son;
My cousin from Missouri says he's only seen black squirrels in Nebraska;
No one comes this town in the dawn;
Catch phrase of the 1970's was, What's going on, going on;
and the horizon falls from the skies...
it's on, it's on it's all the matter of
it's on, it's on it's all a matter of
it's all the matter of dawn;
the Matters of dawn
what's the matter;
whose the matter;
what's the matter;
whose ya mad at son;
what's the matter;
don't be a hater;
lift up your arms, your hands, your head up to the skies;
rejoice in the creator, for He made ya;
and for this ya need to be grateful;'
it's all
yes! YA
it's all matters of the dawn