Long Chattel Poems
Long Chattel Poems. Below are the most popular long Chattel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chattel poems by poem length and keyword.
A RESURRECTING REFLECTION ON TODAY’S TRIBULATIONS
Confirming its intent
And what it all meant
The POTUS spoke loudly
With very proud temerity
Of making a mockery
Out of chattel slavery
By invading another country
With evil military occupancy
Controlling its humanity
And its rich resources
With his powerful armed forces:
But let us not be dismayed
Over this power-mongering raid
That God’s retribution will overcome
This demonic decision that was made:
This crucifying, unjust political insurrection
Will likewise be met with justice’s resurrection
And the ascension of God’s divine wisdom and guidance
Navigating us in life along a pathway of divine benevolence:-
Women of the early 1900’s should have been justifiably outraged
Owned like chattel by their men
Elections were held willy nilly
And if you did not have a willy, you were eliminated
The rare woman who thought she should be
a voter, was not even a contender for a listening ear.
Treated rather like a hog, pig, or a cow.
Ostracized by both men and other women.
Women who were given a glimpse of what
could be, by stand-up liberated women like
Susan B. Anthony did not automatically jump on the bandwagon of liberation. These loud obnoxious free-thinking women were no doubt annoying to socialized women whose February was filled with valentine chocolates and love notes rather than protests and marches. Why did the uppity women insist on equal rights and the right to vote?
Many of the well-behaved women were irritated and outraged
by the uppity attitude of these liberated women, encouraging their men
to throw these loud vulgar rabble rousers into jails.
They strongly encouraged the punitive efforts enforced on these troublemakers. Glaringly on board and fearful of change, many women were not yet ready to admit they were equal in wisdom or feelings of their men.
Sadly they did not recognize their worth or take a stand against oppression and did not insist on the right to vote for many years. Adding to the confusion of our masochistic society which even today has not allowed a woman to be President.
Das papa anathema & furor he hiss toward patriarchal hierarchy
Courtesy mine eldest sister Amelie
Beth (thirteen plus months my senior),
whose maternal love equals heart as emoji,
she nsync with other kith and kin
painstakingly fleshed out family tree,
formerly severely uprooted, me
knowledge of ancestry
truncated, denuded..., bereft
any extended offshoots you see,
thus without doubt earned a priori
gene nee us award for peopling bee
silly decorative swallowtail and
wild asparagus coat of arms motif,
but particularly her artistry
paternal branch Harris and
maternal Russian limb named Kuritsky,
yet now unwittingly feel stumped
I ruminate, speculate, tabulate..., re:
garding one or more descendent did trumpet
objectionable bent with bias, decadent,
flagrant... haughty jarring averse trait
invariably patriarchal heir arch key
impossible impossible to hold figurative tongue
and rebuke stereotypical tendency
resigning, excluding, kraaling..., privileges
to any persons except Caucasian wealth thee
males, who fathered established, commandeered...
western civilization paradigm, I smart
with displeasure at gross injustice curtailed free
choice to acquire unshackled life, liberty,
and pursuit amidst avast booming population,
whose supposed inalienable rights blithely
usurped and denigrated creed, ethnicity,
and indisputably those with frizzy
hair still evident this late date two thousand
nineteen, I decry, grieve, lament,... particular lee
how women haint got no choice - chattel
to grand poobahs - to terminate pregnant sea
really irksome, when predicted on incest, rape
non viable offspring...violation this
garden variety poetaster recoils with knee
jerk loathsome, how young females jailed
if they undergo abortion
(with unwanted, unloved, unborn..., bay bee
thru no fault in their own stars),
punishment nasty, brutal and abhorrent
essentially enslaving the gentler sex lee
ving terror and horror, when peering into mirror
ogre looming ready to strangle gal lest she
obey mandate else...
Today’s a day that’s supposedly filled with political rhapsody/
Yet I sit down and write these words in full spiritual apathy/
I rather be electing a leader whose ideas can capture me/
Chattel ghosts are after me so I can’t afford to be an absentee/
That’s the way it has to be. Many died for my right to choose/
Even if I don’t like the dudes, I must vote, despite the mood/
Despite my feelings that elections do little to bring changes/
Choosing sadists with king wages as their armies sing praises/
Imitation sages. Thinking their group rhetoric is visionary/
Ideas as basic as having sex in positions missionary/
Political dysentery. This system has always been infected/
Vote’s been subjective since the first slave owner’s been elected/
I’ve been neglected and I don’t have the dough to get noticed/
One of the faceless voters. A pawn used in racist quotas/
I face disorder but I’m weighed down by a chaotic tapestry/
Guilty of blasphemy as I elect the next masonic majesty/
The honest travesty is the reality that we’re all expendable/
The poor’s reprehensible as the rich’s laws are extensible/
Democrats more sensible? They all come blunt? I doubt it/
Republicans don’t like me. At least they’re up front about it/
Our wisdom’s clouded. We can’t see their both on the same team/
With the same dream/
Get as much as they can then wipe the slate clean/
This bipartisan system doesn’t allow new voices to surface/
The powers that be, when faced with new choices, get nervous/
They’re hired to serve us, but we transformed them into royalty/
Despite what we feel morally, parties demand total loyalty/
Pay raises quarterly as their conduct grows more disorderly/
Abhorring me and the very few civil laws supporting me/
I don’t mean to be apathetic about the electoral process/
Keeping tabs on the government is an acceptable obsess/
A myth like Lochness? Is Democracy just a pipe dream?/
I must vote to find out. No matter how pointless it might seem...
Form:
Wistful is the heart, silent the walls
where the gambols of youth echoed.
A return tale’s sentimental journey
inside the gates of Sweet Briar Road
Long it behoves me my thanksgiving
to you, aunties Yvonne and Jocelyn T.
For all the love you showed withal
and for all the good you saw in me
Hearken the jumbie bird in the night,
the heat of day and smell of rain.
And QRC bell tower sombre tolled
the hills and valleys of Port of Spain
The crowd’s roar filled its cricket halls
on window row to a grandstand view.
And an open door its gates would be
to weary travellers passing through
By candlelight on evensong sabbath
I saw hands petitioned in God’s raise.
And among portrait, altar and chattel
an old ne-gro woman chanted in praise
Downstairs eating pepper mango,
salt prune and sweet preserved plum.
And upstairs the ghosts of the dead
a trickery of wind and light become
With long treetop fruit picker in hand
softly chorused the sound of Greyfriars.
When joyfully as I picked to my ear
sung the weekly Church Group Choir
Up creaky staircase bedroom chamber,
pantry annex and old livery quarters.
Home to where my grandfather lived
with his wife, eight sons and daughters
In Christian soldier evangelical prayer
waited I for sleep’s silent lull perchance.
O but late by BBC midnight wireless
did growl the dogs in lunar trance
I followed the trail back to its past -
a prodigal son on long returned stay.
When time and fate and the risen sun
dawned upon a much younger day
Written: January 1993
Lot’s wife
Abraham’s wife
Studebaker’s wife
First lady, no name
Women are chattel
To be owned and toyed with
Really?
Is that what we want our daughters and granddaughters to know?
Is this how we want them to feel about themselves?
That they could be put into box cars with pigs by their men?
I roll my eyes at the stupidity of history.
Let’s make the history books fair, the men say.
Let’s put one article about a woman at the back of each chapter.
So, the history books now have one hundred and fifty pages about men.
And twelve pages about women.
Equality and fairness.
I hope the girls of today understand
They can become women now, not merely be girls all of their lives.
Difficult since most will figure out they are being disrespected
In every academic history book.
When I was a child, children were chattel, threatened by our parents and our preacher.
We did not even dare whisper a tiny bit of a sliver of a question at our teacher.
Today’s brazen un-mothers drop their children off for breakfast, lunch and supper.
They have school toilets destroyed before you can spell the word ‘upper.’
The well-behaved, socialized, well-mannered children experience a daily scene
Of how fast our wild ones can commandeer the classroom, showing their mean
They respect no one. Least of all themselves. They refuse to go to a buddy room.
They yell cuss words, and they make noises that are worse than a rocket’s zoom.
What do they receive for disrupting the classroom day after day, in non-moderation?
Rewards in the form of extra recess, basketball, an elaborate celebration.
How this magnificent reward system for bad behavior has backfired is anyone’s guess.
Some of our other children, are starting to throw chairs, wanting to be in this mess.
Is it the prizes, the chocolate sundae bar, the cash? Is it the three hour play on the swings?
Is it the McDonald’s lunch they receive, while the rest are eating lukewarm onion rings?
Is it the laughs they get watching their well-behaved classmates sitting down hard and bored?
Is it that they see the tally sheet, and they realize they are the only ones who scored?
One of our five-year-olds has our school in lock-down mode daily, never there or here.
His teacher is counting the days until break, so she can start interviewing for a different career.
What started out as simple defiance is in full-blown mode now. Our fire escape is broken,
Most white boards and windows have been destroyed, and this is but a brief token.
Is it mean to ask about the rights of the other twenty-six children in the class?
Is it okay to wonder, how in the world in math and reading they will ever pass?
Ask your grandchildren if I am right, and then run to school and for the good ones, please fight.
Written 12-06-2018 Contest: Let ‘Er Rip Sponsor: John Lawless
In order to win the war, I must simply win this battle
Obtaining what God has in store and not being satans chattel
Keeping the Lord by my side now in my darkest hour
With all the devil has tried I give God all the power
I have fallen many times before but I refuse to give in
For I know what’s in store when you submit to sin
A stranglehold now broken but the past is never forgotten
Knowing the Word of God saved a soul that was truly rotten
The battle will continue tomorrow but tonight peace is at hand
There is no need for sorrow if in God’s Word you understand
For I am lost when without as my pride gets in the way
But there’s no need for such doubt , but a need to just pray
Kneeling at the foot of the Cross I can but only bow my head
In being at such a loss at what should’ve been me instead
satan just off in the distance in so plotting his next attack
For weakness he can sense so tomorrow he’ll be back
James 1:13-17
Paradoxically, slavery showed equanimity—
Its suffering displayed no discrimination;
We all shared equally, its debilitation,
And were equally denied any sympathy
Over the Middle Passage odyssey;
Black men were prized; and black women too;
Children were also part of the stolen crew—
You see, when it came to you, the children and me,
Misery was equally shared by the slave family;
A strange institution indeed, was chattel slavery—
Its bitter legacy equally shared by today’s black family;
Heirs to the cruel legacy, lets fight ‘til we’re all totally free.
Rise up black man! Rise up black woman! Rise up black child!
No longer be defiled! We’ve already too many centuries to reconcile!
Little I ask, my wants are few,
I only wish a roof and home -
a simple one this man will do
that I may call my own.
To within its walls live and age
with a memoir to fill my page.
Plain fare is all I need for me,
a ration a day to hearty fill,
and oft to satisfy a thirsty plea
water my dry lips to spill.
And so granted if I should ask
a cold stubbie or whisky flask.
I care not for gold and land,
nor chattel or title to obey -
just a mortgage and at hand
money enough to pay.
I only this need ask and pose
lest the bank on me foreclose.
My clothes I do proudly wear,
no robes of bejewelled ties,
for king ‘n yeoman are I swear
equal all in God’s eyes!
Nay, I am not of that noble ilk
and need no garments of silk.
I do not seek what I need not
like a rich man’s cars or toys -
my contentment is with my lot
and in life’s simple joys.
A humble man beholden for
if this world favour me more.
Truly not I begrudge no man
his Hope, his Fate, his Love -
I seek truths none more than
the word of God above!
And to behold if it is His will
His grace in life to death until.
Written: May 2018
With special thanks to
Oliver Wendell Holmes.