Long Chevron Poems
Long Chevron Poems. Below are the most popular long Chevron by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chevron poems by poem length and keyword.
Who the hell rings bells anymore
whether in a Capitalist society, a Theocracy, an Oligarchy,
or a Dictatorship
the DING has sure been taken out of the
rama dama ding dong
No ones home, the juries out
G-d is dead?
Shell, Chevron and Texaco
have reduced the life expectancy of people in the Niger delta
to 50 years ......
The Oil companies are fracking the hell
out of the water table ....from here to Canada and back
and guess what..then they can up the price of
BOTH oil and FRESH? water??
Who are the bell ringers [Ask Jessica Ernst how the water is in her well?]
Where are the bell ringers [hmmm, Canada?]
[Strangled in the nooses of corrupt governments]
DO say! Do doubt! Do think....
Take a whistle blower home for dinner!
Blinded by the stars [lulled into limbo by Flamingo dancers]
living vicariously ..voyeurs
peeping through the key holes of ****-holes
Pull yourselves UP..OUT, declare COMMIT
re-remember what it means
to have YOUR WORD mean something
re-remember what it means to be a friend.
Free yourself, for no one else will.
Fallacies RING true to the disempowered
there DONGs removed, their clappers plucked
Sex, drugs and Rock and Roll was the mantra
of MY age, and HELL NO I WON'T GO
our calling card.
*Thank you to my muse and friend Rueben O.
for inciting this ancient ding-dong :)
Please read his excellent write [Didn't Don't]
Encamped in the local IHOP patio
Doing reconnaissance on the butter pecan syrup
I discern its malicious, aggressive intentions:
To march defiantly down Mt. Stack
And wage a ruthless attack on
Defenseless over-easy eggs
Acting quickly, I wield my fork
Digging trenches in my pancakes
I flank the enemy, staving off
This unprovoked act of aggression
Victory!
Only in that moment do I lift my eyes and notice
A brood of young sparrows
heralding their hunger
The chevron of hang-gliding geese silently
sailing to destinations unknown
Majestic Monarchs flitting
stoically southward
And rival suitors:
An iridescent hummingbird and an industrious bee
Romantically pursuing myrtle blossoms
The canopy of cerulean blue
And all the life within its realm
Resolves my thoughts from war to peace
Note to self:
Don’t forget to look up
I used to believe that I could not go
a day without your smile.
The proverb gives an inch,
She wanted a mile.
The day arrived, it was hard,
The next was harder.
The sun went away,
My world grew darker.
I knew that sinking feeling would
Stay a life time.
I now understand why
They say love is blind.
Losing you is not an event that
happens once it occurs over and over.
I hit rock bottom, I could
Not sink any lower.
I lose you every time,
I think about you.
I'm red with rage or
Deep dark blue.
I lose you every time
I drink a cup of tea.
I lose you every time
I see an amputee.
I lose you when I see
A chevron gas station.
My world full of regret
And devastation.
I lose you when,
I hear music,
It is no longer
therapeutic.
I lose you when I see a
Dark haired boy.
I truly believed you were
The real Mc coy.
I lose you every time I
See a woman or a girl.
When you loved me,
It was out of this world.
I lose you when I'm
In a store.
I lose you every,
seven - twenty-four.
I lose you every night when
I lay alone in my bed.
I lost you when I was alive,
I lose you when I'm dead.
I lose you every day,
My heart will never heal.
I wish you knew,
How I really feel.
Turbo1904 ?
When all the world is a giant burden,
Banerji sir, my colleague, a true SST Allen.
“Maan ki bat Modi ke Sath; rest other shun,”,
Says always my friend Banarji, never stun
Or stagger or startle, never remains barren.
Best friend who teaches Dhruvi and others Balkan,
Or India with psychology, without an apron.
Kenil, Hari, Bhavin, Shivani had some unban;
With Favourite dish of Dada, a fish; talks on Patan,
Sings hymns, buzzes about Mahakali one.
Says, “Your age is less than my profession.”
Scolds us, “Worst batch of year” – a Pun?
He is Bangali babu, wears dhoti, kurta even,
Talks about SST, and about doors wide open.
He is a Brahman, takes plausible action,
Wearing a chevron, is our Divine’s lion.
Meshwa, Diya, and Pitambar are clearly won,
With Aryan, Harsh, Nupur, Dishal and billion.
Let it be Shakespeare or Keats or Byron
He is through with all, has a great fortune.
Appreciates my Monorhyme and region
Never keeps quiet, but is pure bullion.
Dear to my students, Esha, Jeet or Rohan.
Prosper a lot is my wish, Oh! Aaron!
Welcome to my random world;
Where Angels and Fairies both co herald
Am I a fallen fairy?
As my vision mainly slept I’m under twinkly
A little phantom dream, awaken in my reality
Dancing angels challenge me to fly
I would consider but I’m too sly
Am I a fallen fairy?
So I jump off the clouds fall from heaven;
Enclosed in laced silk fabric satin and chevron;
I cling, I sing, I swallow wind and air, everything’s
Zings as I fall plummet to my death it seems;
Alas, I witness the angel’s upswings;
Singing something;
I sent my wish on fairy wings;
Am I a fallen fairy?
Literary legendary;
my random world;
Where Angels and Fairies both co herald;
Fallen fairy zings, falls fallen tree branch unstring;
I sent my wish on fairy wings;
9/14/19
Welcome To My Random World Poetry Contest
Rhyme poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
A glib giant of the river borders
The discerning ears of the ancient Power, we mourn
Where caravans cascade to unseen voices
And the rumbling of avalanche bullets invades our peace
This mind captured it with a piercing eye
From river “Nun”
ere wasting wore garbs of gloom
this savage brandishing of the source of livelihood
Wiwa's blood spills, as the Khaki boys obeyed their paymaster
Profligate bands in union vexed by demons hunt sane men "like partridges"
With arms, murderous Pirates just for greed offers bullets as our prize
Subdued our river for gain never known.
Ruined face-stretching pains like coverless carpet
A reservoir of floods tumbles through the eye gates,
Our rich resources ploughed by strangers,
Where is Royal Dutch Shell? or Schlumberger, where is Chevron, Total
when we are hungry,
when we die, of pollution,
where is Petrobras, Equinor or Agip
when we mourn the damage on our offspring
we are silenced by the tyrants in Aso.
Insipid insanity of blood brothers ignored safety
Our tyrants cared for the gains
and for gains, Wiwa was murdered,
And a Massacre in Odi
Kill them all, says the goggled tyrant,
Take the gains to Zurich, I will spend it tomorrow,
but like Mobutu, he never lived to count the cash
For their greed, we die.
As these Lords watch the drama, smiling at our folly
From the coast of ivory, where children groan in pain for jewels
to war-ravaged Sudan, famished by the same burden
and like Esau, we trade the future for ephemeral
And obliterating while reenacting the trade of yore
unending wars for greed, a blinding greed
Who will save these captives from the taskmasters?
Cocoa harvested in Ghana, Indonesia et al, yet not a chocolate plant
but this coffee is not from Ghana,
the Chocolate bar is sent back at the dollar price
Nigeria is rich with crude
Yet they meander around a refinery from far off climes
Congo is ravaged in war, who supplies the arm?
Oh! for a taste of Freedom
On a cool, crisp mid-October morning,
the sweetness of apples flavors the air.
And a chevron of geese honk their warning
that Winter is coming; stay if you dare.
I loved picking apples, but I was small
and only picked those I could reach by hand.
I didn't like using ladders; after all,
the orchard was my childhood wonderland.
Dad had a burlap bag rigged to my back
that allowed both of my hands to be free.
I'd put as many apples in my sack
as possible, wobbling from tree to tree.
I was told that apples were nutritious,
and yet, they're oh-so-sweet and delicious.