Long Carrier Poems
Long Carrier Poems. Below are the most popular long Carrier by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carrier poems by poem length and keyword.
Don’t display, they will quarantine.
Runaway escape the quarantine.
• Don’t worry, just a few days till it fades.
This will keep your family and society safe.
I don’t believe in social distancing,
Solitude is something I hate!
• A carrier infects all, around.
If we don’t kill it, it will hound.
I am young and strong and immune.
Keeping me in won’t be a boon.
• If virulent patients don’t survive coz of its stepping,
And if Grandpas and grannies die, you would be abetting!
How will I survive, this makes me dread!
Who will give me butter and bread?
• You will get your wage,
There is no reason for such rage.
• Just for few days we are all banned.
The government has your back, together we shall withstand.
What if people die, it’s their own fate!
Better, you get it straight!!
• We are a family and each one is priceless,
Empathise, don’t leave your niceness.
Let’s stand together through this crisis.
Christmas was nearing.....and yet..
These arrogant governors must be eating ,shrooms!
"We have locked the churches and schools
Now chimneys must be locked down soon!"
Their greasy hair gleamed under TV lights,
(I hated this dudes,real goons!)
" We cannot take chances with this obese, Santa Clause,.
After all,His Holiess Fauci, the CDC and the revered WHO
Stated clearly,
Santa is most assuredly a carrier of the deadly Covid, too!
Alas, the brainwashed, masked masses, in a maelstorm of
applause agreed.
"Righto,Santa is unmasked and might even sneeze, oh, geez!
So they got to work, boarded and chimneys up,with speed!
Sir Covid was all they thought of day and night.
It was cool though, it helped them win a fraudulent election.
~Where went, an honest selection?~
They were mad gods and emperors now!
Full of wine, power and incurable !insurrection...
Thomas Hobson (1544 –1631)
in 19th century late
a Cambridge ostler and postal carrier
set his priorities straight
he owned a livery stable
of 40 Hackney horses or more
plus boots bridles and whips
and put the horse the cart before
after the animal left the barn
by bolting fast the door
and as precautionary balm
the nag nearest the stable gate
the worn-out equine storm to calm
was the firm rule he did make
this one or none in the stall
was that which customers had to take
or do with no ride at all
but for the paying equestrians
either way they win or lose
as there was no choice but accept or reject
for any of them to choose
The test scores are worse than they've ever been
How can these kids expect an American Dream
Most Democracies buried in debt
individuals max their credit, also a bad bet.
Our military is outmanned and outgunned
China can build 200 ships when we build one.
Their hypersonic missiles can sink our carrier fleet
Their allies round the world can make the job complete.
Their kids master science and math
Here kids fail at logic, no upward path
Their elite are engineers, ours have law degrees
We block things, they have world class factories.
Frenchmen riot, want to retire before age 65
Once the state gives, reversal efforts don't survive.
Politicians keep promising, budgets keep growing
Stagnation grows too; we reap what they're sowing.
Leaders ignore what their citizens want
We don't want an influx of the intolerant
Chinese don't have race riots, or student spies
It doesn't matter that propaganda tells lies.
We thought there'd be balance, assumed, not told
The media, academia, the center would hold
Movies would vary, opinions too
You wouldn't be shot dead, that's what savages do.
So, did the Republic fail that the founders made?
Will totalitarians leave our legacy in the shade?
It doesn't look good now, in a row allies fall
To Jihad or Karl Marx, who yet hears freedom's call?
It was after the defeat at Camden,
in the fall of 1780,
British Major Patrick Ferguson
sought to exploit Britain’s victory.
To secure South Carolina’s countryside,
he marched his loyalist forces forward,
threatened the men beyond Appalachia,
said he would lay waste with fire and sword.
He believed that with Gates fast in retreat,
resistance in the south would soon fall,
but he’d not met the Overmountain Men,
and did not understand them at all.
Living on the edge of the wilderness,
they were a hardened and seasoned crew,
who had been fighting Indians for years,
and had defeated more than a few.
Isaac Shelby and John Sevier,
fresh from a small win at Musgrove’s Mill,
were not going to just let this threat pass,
that would have been much too bitter a pill.
A call was sent out for all to muster
at a place known as the Sycamore Shoals,
fourteen hundred militiamen afoot,
they all started off after their goal.
Word was that this Major Ferguson
marched fast to rejoin the British man force,
against such an army they couldn’t stand,
so they hurriedly traced Ferguson’s course.
Even put nine hundred men on horseback
so their enemy would not slip on by,
leaving five hundred patriots behind,
across that fair country did they fly.
Ferguson knew he was being pursued,
and made his camp atop of a low peak,
three hundred feet high with broad wooded slopes,
it seemed a secure place to rest and sleep.
So strong did he feel his position was
that he proclaimed, to calm all his men’s fears,
atop the hill they could hold forever,
no force on Earth would move him form here.
Such confidence had the man in his strength
that his lookouts sadly dropped the ball,
at three o’clock the patriots attacked,
the British men had not seen them at all.
The militiamen surrounded the hill,
following a loose and pre-approved plan,
moving and shooting like the Indians,
never out in the open would they stand.
To make things worse, the British forces had
muskets, best suited for open fields,
patriots carrier Kentucky rifles,
at two hundred yards their danger was real...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I am the lion of the serengeti
the lion who circles the boma
listening for the yelp of the hyenna
watching the buzzards drop from the sky
I am the lion because the wild is my father
and nature is my mother and the instinctive killing nature runs in my blood
I am the eater of death the carrion carrier of the dead
I help the cycle of life complete its revolution
I am the lion because unity says I am
I am the lion the ghost and the darkness I cricle the villages listening for the faint cries of infants the smell of flesh excites my senses
I am the image projected through your nightmares
the fangs the claws the devilish piercing eyes reflecting back at you with no sense of mercy just a lust for hunger I am the lion because the law of the universe says i am
I am the great white shark who swims 50 feet per second no man can out swim me
I am the great white who can detect the faintest drop of blood miles away
whos eyes are darker than any abyss or the deepest point of any ocean
the emptiness of my eyes strike the universal fear into the hearts of all who encounter my presence.
I am the great white whos teeth out number the generations of your family
whos teeth are as sharp as a seraded edge knife who leave mangled body parts floating
as nothing more than mere debris in my domain.
the domain of my ancestor the leviathan
I am the great white who resides in my mothers womb forever
I am the great white who no man can tame for the law of the universe and the spirit of my ancestors will not allow man to cage me but to put forth fear into the hearts of men and cage and bind the imaginations of men
I am the great white a solitary creature of the deep to cross me is to pay the toll to the fairyman into the land of the dead
I am the great white because the law of the universe says i am
Most of the time I am thinking about my pets
Pets others have dumped out
Pets who should probably have therapy but don’t.
One of them is a large pony dog we named Buddy.
He was dumped two months ago; he chews up everything.
Memory foam mattress, shoes, boots, sandals, balls,
bones, doggie chews, doggie toys, spoons, snow scrapers,
spatula handles, cardboard boxes, mouse traps, rulers,
fly swatters, and the lids off of plastic bottles.
Another is my new kitty Nemo who I struggled to get to the vet
for her shots on Saturday only to discover I had brought my cat Shark.
Nemo looks exactly like Shark only half his weight.
He fought me like a tiger when I was pushing him into a kitty carrier.
My other dog Sophie Helen is a worry; when I hear her squeaking
I know that Buddy is bothering her. He is ten times her size-
a giant galoot, and super impulsive.
My children are all grownup; my grandchildren have their friends now.
And their cars, so my time is spent thinking about my pets.
It is a delightful pastime, and they make life worthwhile.
Faraway in an unknown
Unknown distant land
Land she sleeps
And wake all alone
All alone she lives
Lives and waits
Waits for me to come
Waits for me to come
Come take her to be
mine.
Every morning
In that faraway
Distant and unknown
land
She sings and sweeps
Like the African Woman
she is!
...Inside her
Is my child
Yet unborn...
It is to you
My unborn child
That this address is to...
...My child
Whenever, Wherever
and Whichever
Way you choose to come
Into this world
May you meet this as a
gift
From me to you!!!
...I am your father
Pride you are to me
See you not I may
And see you I may
But let it ring down in
you
That a pride to me
You are...
...This world you are
Coming into
Is a ugly beautiful place
A hopefully hopeless city
A beautiful city
With ugly villages
Which houses men
Of different varied
intents
And women
Whose animalistic
innerlings
Are covered with
glowing skins
And ready made
garments!!!
...I had done my part
My part to bring you
hither
And leave for you
A lot of deeds
Both good and not too
good
Also bad and not too
bad.
I had done my part
To bring you hither
In the best vessel
around!
And grow will you
In this truly wicked
world
To be nice and
righteous
Till you strive and
strive
To make it
Better than you met it...
Just like I
Your father...
...You know me not
My unborn child
But my news you hear
From that which is your
carrier
Of the too many bads
That I did
And of too few goods
That by me are done.
Struggle! Struggle!!
My dear Unborn Child
To better my deeds
And better your lots
For the betterment of
the world!...
...Though it be cruel to
you
Fight to abrogate
cruelity
Though it be ugly to you
Struggle to promote
beauty
Though it be a hell for
you
Endeavour to create a
heaven in it.
...For the world
Is always not what
It seem to be
And in it
Nothing remains as it is
For so long a time
Like Mariama Ba's
Long Letter!...
...So my dear child
Learn from my story
Avoid my pitfalls
Use my strengths
Understand my
weaknesses
And drink from my
wisdom pot
And it shall better you...
...For...
You are
My Unborn Child...
The storm is yet a distance,
vocals still at zero, naught--
though lightning does appear;
and like my ear was *****
I tilt to listen...then hearing nothing,
resign to glisten;
Silence can be a messenger;
here light a pigeon carrier,
waking with stirring charges
cold articulate within--carrion of a harmony
city grating long left dumb.
Vivid flashes now make clear
all clouds no slivered linings;
as monstrous canons
would interfere--
shoot them splattering down--
but storm seems lost
its rolling-tongue;
or, perhaps--a higher-power reconsidered;
deciding if riotous voice
that every tingly cochlea-body
when thundered
will have a quiet choice.
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Contest Name: Describe a thunder storm without the sense of sound
The place where your butterflies flitter
free in the meadow,
licking the ambulant stream,
the dew from life's vessels,
perspirant milk of purity honey-
Bursting from out of the seams.
The shine of the little fluttering-Bearcat,
pillar of change,
for seasons changelings stage buttering.;
In that; constant, source of inspirationing,
constantly in ironys schemes.
Vacation on vocational vexillology,
Vocation-vacationing
in the spring.
I hope you always find yourself a wonder-pleasuring.
A pleasure in-wondering at home in the free of bond.
But never in singularity.
Never reeling, never changing.
Always becoming to the laeity of the des-parity.
A Carrier to Carry-On.