Long Cause Poems
Long Cause Poems. Below are the most popular long Cause by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cause poems by poem length and keyword.
You send your drones to spy and bomb .
Your soldiers shoot us one by one .
Yet it is our land that you stand on .
You deny us supplies of life saving drugs.
you send your soldiers, well government thugs.
and secret agents with listening bugs.
You build a wall around your towns .
and occupy our ancestral grounds.
while all the time, the war drum sounds.
I find this so hard to understand
when this plainly is not your land
And no, god does not give out free land
Yet your history is strewn with strife
of millions killed so cruelly stripped of life.
please respect others way of life.
If you don't you will only reap
the tears of your children as they weep
as your nation falls into an unethical deep sleep
you need to feed the dove of peace
and make the senseless killing cease
Inspired by seekers blog poetry as a weapon , Poetry can carry a message good or bad and cause debate Its what the reader takes from it . The subject was picked because I read the below piece .
A famous Palestinian poet as just had his work translated into English https://electronicintifada.net/content/robust-world-great-druze-poet/19056
(Dedication: This poem is for My Dear Patron who bought me
a 1-year premium membership. I say: "Thank You" to my
Anonymous patron and friend for this very kind gesture.)
Thank you so much
For your kind touch;
Thank you dear friend
For this fine spend.
I just wrote verse
A new outburst;
Saw Premium star
With mind ajar!
So now I sit
With word and wit:
Fond gratitude,
My attitude.
Dear unknown friend:
My day and trend,
You made me sigh
With brand new high.
I will write more
With words like spores
To make you proud
In rhymes not loud.
Like times of old
When poesy bold,
A patron cause
Steered poet and course!
Thanks once again
For gift made plain;
Your gesture shows
A sparkling glow.
And as words come
To hurl new psalm,
Please let me say,
Your faith now stays.
I sign off now
With kind endow
With grateful heart
With lovely start.
Sincerely here,
I "Thank You" Dear
Anonymous,
For graciousness.
Leon Enriquez
15 Mar 2014
Singapore
Oh, peaceful sentinel of green,
With sweeping boughs and leafy screen!
Most trees provide a tranquil shade,
For picnickers in any glade
But you, O Willow, choose to smite,
And pummel passersby all night!
While common willows gently weep,
You cause the very bones to leap!
With one swift swish, you wreck a car,
And launch a Ford into a star.
You care not for a bird or bee,
An equal-opportunity brute tree.
You guard a dark and secret door,
Where furry friends pace on the floor.
A gentle poke upon your bark
Will freeze you silent in the dark,
A magic trick of wood and limb,
To keep your temper rather trim!
So hail the violent, twisted wood!
Misunderstood, yet understood.
The only tree, we must agree,
That strikes right back at botany!
illumination radiance gleaming spectrum
the lightness of being reflected in meditation
karmic invigoration when Newton’s apple rises
above the false gravity of seeming impermanence
cause and effect in cosmic unmeasurable cycles
tantric proportions of spiritual enlightenment
the Buddha seduces the Virgin Mary in foreplay
of heavenly promises and miraculous passion
gleaming brilliance blinds all darkness
when luster emerges from devilish shadows
waiting for providence necessities action
one cannot light a fire without a spark
once ember glows momentum evolves
future and past merge into presence
suffering of suffering yields epiphanous healing
all chakras open and ready for more
the time will come when you visualize sounds
hear what plays out in your eyes
touch taste and smell the spell of their union
and become one with yourself and the Universe
Another New Year
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
2014 done and dusted
I’ve welcomed in 2015
With a beer and a crayfish
Round a campfire with some friends
…
New resolutions, not for me old mate
Cause I won’t keep what I promised
So I’ll just open up the gate… and
Let fate decide what’s in store for 2015
…
Like the man in the barbed wire canoe
Spearing tadpoles with a crow bar
You can bet my year won’t be great
But I’ll tough it out and see it through
…
I’ll do a bit of travel in me Ute and Van
Probably round Australia and free camp
When I can
Catch up with some mates along the way
Have a chin wag and a beer or two
…
I don’t really give a rat’s ****
What goes on in this world of turmoil
As long as they pay me pension
I’ll just live my life as free as a bird
…
But I will say this old mate
That’s it’s your family and friends
That will get you through the gate
Should a little trouble strike
…
So enjoy your life one and all
Leave your troubles behind the gate
Love your family, friends and mates
Be kind to your heart, it has only so many beats
…
WELCOME 2015
my grannies
i was always
their favorite
the boy inside
the man
they used
to call me
a little darkhorse
cause i used to give
little presents
things i made
or pick them flowers
sometimes the smallest
little flower
in my eyes
i would tell them
they are little bunches
of flowers
for the little people
it was always magical
i always though
in dreams
of colour
one beauty
for a little fairy princess
with dark brown eyes
like my own
my grannies
back then said
i would break
some woman's heart
instead it was the other
way around
it was inspired
from my grannies
who always said
i was a beautiful writer
they loved
my little stories
it was like they saw
something magical
through my eyes
when i told
a story
as they told me a few
i remember
once saying
if i turned
to a frog
granny
do you think
a woman
would kiss me
kissing me
on the forehead
of course they would
tears roll
down my cheeks
as i write
they said
that i was beautiful
why wouldn't they
they really
loved me
thinking back
i hope
they look ore me
as angels
it sounds to me
they remain
beautiful
(William Hammer, Thomas Alva Edison's assistant,
has reached the end of his tolerance. His boss is
planning to electrocute an elephant for a publicity
stunt.)
If he goes through with this, the dam has burst.
I'm done with him. Of all the tricks he's pulled,
this is the lowest, cheapest, cruellest. Worst.
Yes, Edison. He can't be serious,
can he? To execute an elephant?
He's out there, grinning like a Barbary ape.
Where two or more newspapermen are gathered,
Alva loses all his self-control.
He'll be there now, perspiring, shouting, lathered,
excited to his flinty, vulgar soul.
I'm William Joseph Hammer. Who are you?
A quarter-century I've spent with him,
but now the scales have fallen from my eyes.
The man's a pirate and a charlatan.
Inventor? Him?
Well, since I'm stranded here
in shabby Coney Island in the rain,
ignored and slighted, spited yet again,
I'll tell you. Edison did not invent
the light bulb - that's what he employed me for.
Besides, I'll name a dozen scientists
who'd made a working lamp some years before.
What is he good at? He's a patent-mill!
He takes out patents like a dentist, teeth
(except that dentists never put their name
on what they've pulled). The man has got no shame.
The team has all the talent, he the grin:
we think the thoughts, and Alva cashes in.
I think he's met his match in Westinghouse.
The so-called war of currents. Who will win?
America will buy one set of goods,
and where this country leads, the others go.
To get his system in American homes,
He'd kill his grandma.
Hence this all-time low.
He's worse than Czolgosz. At the very least,
the latter had nobility, although
misguided. Alva has no other cause
beyond himself. Those motion picture-things
are here for Alva's glory. When the blow
extinguishes that poor beast's life, you'll know
whose self-promoting hand was on the tiller.
Saint Thomas Alva Edison's a killer.
SUNG TO THE TUNE OF “MY FAVORITE THINGS”
As Found in the “Sound of music”
Lyrics by JTC
I like confections, that feed all my craving
Macaroons covered with coconut shavings
Sugar plum cookies so big, you should share
Theses are the things that I like to prepare
Raspberry jelly, fills my cookie centers
The icing on top, I learned from my mentors
Sprinkling Jimmies fly free through the air
Theses are the things that I like to prepare
Marzipan made from pumpkin and spices
Covered in chocolate, serves all my vices
Lemon drop candies are made with such care
These are the things that are fun to prepare
But when the night comes, and the moons out
And I’m feeling dead
I simply remember, that I like fresh brains
And turn to eat them, instead
Eyeballs and ears with curdled blood icing
I hand the brains to others for slicing
Mincing the meat, to make pies with a flare
These are a few of the things I prepare
My special treat, are raw ladies’ fingers
As soon as they’re served, they seldom do linger
When pickling livers, the others just stare
But these are the things that I like to prepare
I boil skulls till they’re soft and chewy
Cook down the blood till it’s thick and gooey
Resisting these snacks, Is the thing I can't bare
Cause these are the things that I like to prepare
But when the day comes and the suns out
And I’m filled with life
I simply return to the living again
And cook up some sweets........ till night
Perfect Attendance Award
Kevin Davis 2025
I was never able to complete an entire school year without a day being ill.
And at the end of each school year an honor was paid to those who endured.
180 days of schoolwork and desk sitting, without one day being under a pill.
An achievement was bestowed, and all my teachers were proud and honored.
My days of absence was because of the common cold, earache and sore throat.
But more than that, days were without schoolwork, sleeping-in and some fun.
Colds were never fun, sore throats or strep were painful and nothing to gloat.
But watching television, whatever and whenever I wanted, could not be undone.
But the honor others had obtained seemed worthy, so one year I ventured to win,
One full school year, each full day in my seat, learning my eighth-grade lessons.
I made the first half without a day ill, playing basketball till the holidays began.
Christmas was joyful and healthy, and New Years joy, my family were blessings.
Back to class on Monday January 3rd, 1966, the Saturday before I woke-up well.
Ready to begin the rest of the year then to high school and many new adventures.
By mid-day I began to feel different, my throat itched, and stomach wouldn’t be still.
By evening my throat was scratchy and my head hurt, what was causing the aches?
My Mom felt my head, and stated, “You have a temperature, it’s to bed for you!”
“But Mom I want to go to back to school.” “Let me take your temperature and see.”
Thermometer in the mouth for several minutes, then out it came and the orders to do,
“Here’s two aspirins, take them now and get to bed you have a fever of over 103.”
Dr. Buckley was called, and my parents took me to his home/office, and he said,
“I need to check, but I think step-throat is the cause.” The fearful otoscope out
The good doctor peered down my throat. “Strep it is young man it’s off to bed”.
First a shot, cough medicine and pills. “No school for you, and no running about”.
And so, my quest for perfect attendance was done, no honor to be had at years end.
By the end of the next week, I was feeling much better, and Dr. Buckley decreed,
“The strep has healed and you can return to school.” he gave Mom a note to send,
So, the school would let me return but no perfect attendance, the rules did not bend.
Qualitative
And quantitative
Self appraisal
Humorously casual
Of our stillness quotient
Moment to moment ...
First the qualitative
The depth meditative
Thoughts & body still
By non-self will
Imbibing the love energy
Of current divine in synergy
Is uplifting
Consciousness enhancing
And yet but the beginning
Of our journey enlightening
Then going in deeper
The ascension steeper
Requires dissolution
Total annihilation
Of the self, voluntarily
Choice made choicelessly
Being, becoming, in oneness
The That Awareness
Next, the quantitative
A matter contemplative
Being the response time taken
By our consciousness when shaken
To return to equilibrium
From egoism fearsome
When the external
Stirs the internal
The ripples disturbing our calm
Are cause for observational alarm
In that our reflex response
Imagined to be divine ensconced
Is fragile
From anxiety to smile
The time we take
To forsake
Narrowness & contraction
Back to Oneness & expansion
Is the quantitative scale
Of the way on earth we sail
03-November-2020