Long Cinco de Poems

Long Cinco de Poems. Below are the most popular long Cinco de by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cinco de poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member BE KIND - THANK U Collab with Alanis

video of "Ironic" is for my 'Cinco De Mayo' contribution.

Alanis Morissette, emotive mezzo-soprano voice 
and confessional songwriting with a feminist’s choice
Canadian, nineties rock-star famous for Jagged Little Edge
Raw naked cringe-y to the profound, empowering by virtue I pledge

(She’s helped countless women and girls to find their voices, to speak out, and to take up space)


Thank you India
symbolizing spiritual awakening and enlightenment
Thank you terror
 acknowledge the challenging and painful aspects 
Thank you disillusionment
of life that can lead to growth and wisdom
Thank you frailty
highlight vulnerability and accountability as essential 
Thank you consequence
components of personal development
Thank you silence
 suggests finding peace and clarity through 
introspection and contemplation
 let go of something burdensome, which ultimately leads 
to personal growth and transformation

A pivotal moment, represents as a turning point 
where she gains a new perspective and begins to understand
 the value of forgiveness, living in the present, and embracing her own divinity

How 'bout me not blaming you for everything?
blame the moon, release unriquited love and like a bird that doesn't know where their home is, fly away
How 'bout me enjoying the moment for once?

How 'bout how good it feels to finally forgive you?

How 'bout grieving it all one at a time?

Thank you frailty

The moment I let go of it was the moment

I got more than I could handle

The moment I jumped off of it

Was the moment I touched down

How 'bout no longer being masochistic?

How 'bout remembering your divinity?

How 'bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out?
signifies emotional release and catharsis, 
suggesting that facing and processing emotions
 is crucial for personal evolution

How 'bout not equating death with stopping?

Thank you nothingness

Thank you clarity

Thank you, thank you silence

Ladies sing along with the goddess Alanis

Thank U Providence
Thank U Canada
Thank U Alanis Morissette
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Clerihew


Redneck Saw a Black Girl

Racial slurs fly in Michigan like footballs. 
I'm not supposed to point the finger at white women,
but white women who enjoy NASCAR, and mass 
quantities of alcohol. can be pretty racists and homophobic, 
This white woman said, "What did God say when he made 
the first black man? "Damn, I burnt one." 

Some people can lighten the mood right before a race-riot
breaks out by telling racists jokes. On the roof 
of a very tall building are four men; one is asian, 
one is mexican, one is black, and the last one is white. 

The asian walks to the ledge and says, 
"This is for all my people" and jumps off the roof.
Next, the mexican walks to the ledge and also says, 
"This is for all my people" and then he jumps off the roof.
Next is the black guy's turn. The black guy walks 
to the ledge and says, "This is for all my people" 
and then throws the white guy off the roof. 

See that's funny. We get really funny things 
because of our differences. We do have to learn 
to laugh, but more importantly appreciate ourselves..
Without color the world would be pretty grey.
This seems pretty obvious, but doesn't stop people
from killing each other. The world wouldn't 
even be grey without color because grey is a color. 

They say the blind can't lead the blind,
which brings me to my next joke.
How do you blindfold a Chinese person? 
Put floss over their eyes. 

I shouldn't have to spell out the obvious, or fight
for tolerance. It's getting late and my eyes 
are turning red from all the jokes. Racism is
really bad comedy. it's like listening to a really bad laugh
that slowly drives a man insane. Don't even get me
started on sexism, which is just a form of stupidity. 

I just don't like stupid people. I don't like when stupid
looks me in the eyes because it's ugly.Racists and sexists 
must have brain cancer or some devastating mental illness,
which causes them to get mad when Mexicans don't mow
the grass or confused when black people don't like fried chicken.
© Lyon Brave  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Flying Into May

We soar into May with a joyful cheer,
A month of magic, the best of the year.
The earth awakens, the air grows sweet,
With blossoms and warmth, life feels complete.

On May Day morn, the ribbons entwine,
Around the Maypole, a divine dance.
Laughter and singing fill the sky,
Welcoming spring as clouds drift by.

Then comes the fifth, with a vibrant array,
Cinco de Mayo, a festive display.
Honoring courage from days of yore,
A culture cherished, rich in lore.

Mothers are honored with flowers and praise,
Love overflowing on their special days.
A gentle 'thank you' for all they've done,
Their kindness shines like the Maytime sun.

The gardens blush with tulips and peonies,
Lush landscapes hum with the buzz of bees.
Nature's palette is ever so bright,
Painting the world with colors of light.

Memorial Day calls, solemn and true,
To honor the fallen, clad in red, white, and blue.
With hearts of gratitude, we humbly stand,
Remembering those who protected our land.

Graduates march with dreams in their eyes,
Turning the page as their spirits rise.
In their caps and gowns in a grand parade,
Marking the end, and new journeys made.

May 12th shines with compassion's grace,
As nurses are hailed for their crucial place.
Healers and helpers who endlessly strive,
Their care keeps the spirit of others alive.

The birds return with sky bound glee,
Their songs have a chorus of melody.
With feathers bright, they fill the air,
A testament of nature's flair.

Pets are celebrated, our loyal friends,
With wagging tails and love that never ends.
In May, we embrace the joy they bring,
Their companionship is a boundless spring.

Through warmer days and golden rays,
May invites us to bask, to play.
Picnics, gardens, and time outside,
In May’s embrace, we all confide.

Flying into May is a journey of bliss,
A season of beauty we would not miss.
Events and wonders, laughter and care,
May is a treasure, beyond belief.

The Land of Nothingness

Nothing grows there anymore not even the old tree stump can be found, the land is barren and empty, the plants have dried up, just thorn and thistle can be found, the land is vast and it used to have acres and acres of sweet corn growing, one crop harvest proceed the other and all of a sudden the damage was done and nothing is left on the ground.

 The sun peeps slowly over the burning hill streaming through thick shrubs and laden trees and I watch the village burn and the temperature grows and trees fall apart from broken dreams. The twisted vine on the cedar tree tied up the village, wrapping up the branches and leaves and absorbing the nutrients around and sending more heat into the ground.

Nothing grows there anymore, the lake has dried up and the fresh water fish is gone and all that is left is tears in my eyes and miles upon miles of burnt land with charred remains of human and animals scattered all around and nothing was left on the ground.

The cows used to feed over there, and the sheep used to graze up there and the olive and grapes used to thrive over there; what on earth has gone wrong something must have poisoned and suck the substance out of the land. Just the building frames are standing there and the mound on the hill stands still.

There are several of them around symbolize that the spirit of the dead can no longer be fed. They are still lingering around searching for a home more than a thousand of them used to occupy the land but no one is there, they are all gone, It came like a thief in night and left behind a woeful sacrifice behind just few of them escaped before daylight.

The land of nothingness stood bear, the land of nothingness has nothing to share; nothing can grow or survive there, and everyone has to leave there, the universe will shake that place the land of nothingness will go to waste. Get the 2.5 million people out of that place before it’s too late the earth has come back to occupy its place.
Form: Narrative

Just Rantcid

Looking like the cat that ate the mocking jay                                                                                                                                        if that bird doesn’t sing it may just be jabbering                                                                                                                                like a parrot on your shoulder feed it a cracker                                                                                                                                       but never bring home strays to roost                                                                                                                           that’s the difference between rubber and clue                                                                                                              like a copy and paste of wells without water                                                                                                                  they will eventually choke on their own dust                                                                                                                                  a little cliche for the clique who gives                                                                                                                                          a rat in a cage follows the maze                                                                                                                                          so build a better mouse trap                                                                                                                                        be creative and don’t worry                                                                                               is there enough written about                                                                                         cinco de mayo to be a category
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.


Germination

A Cyclops was chatting briefly to a triceratops on the A9. Travelling to a cooked conference. The deepening road arched in anticipation of wheels. Wow. The heightened awareness of ninety million snails parachuting from above can no longer be ignored by the pin people. Oh dear. The significantly growing masses can no longer be exposed to such truth. It is wiser to punch a door than a circular blade of grass. Every erosion eradicates evenly evil events. And a curly tail from a single ear of corn is paramount to a journey into an abyss of time. Travelling with curtain poles is fabulous. It highlights and further demonstrates the current need for versions to be visions and visitations visible. Vestibular vertabrims vanquish. And an eye of dawn laughing. Circumference of an atom is neither a headline of a series or a statutory static void. And still a turning. And still a stripey square. Spin then. No lines could ever taunt an area of over three hundred and fifty-five thousand square feet. Ha to that. Jeopardy is dancing with leopards today. Worldwide. Creating lots of financial gain. No ha to that. If doctors can spin then why don't they make a blanket then? And coughing in dough is not clever for it is wiser to cough near a drop of eighty-four million feet. Question not the remarkable ten toed wisdom of the arriving jellyfish.  Canter. Gallop. And enter. How rather radical then. And so the conversation ceased as the journey began for the Cyclops and triceratops misted through the many lanes and roads cheered on only by their inner missions. Saluted by those whose antics upon humanity were rancid. And drawing attention only from the large piles of heifer excrement sizzling in the countryside akin to freshly cooked steak pies with gravy. Beanpole bake. Bream booms. Brook book. And one turtle eye staring. Xxxxx insectivorous institutions. Xxxx germination z
Form:

Premium Member Moments Ago, A Visit From An Earthquake

On the fifth of April 2024, about 10:23 a.m., we all felt a shake
It wasn’t the midnight train; it wasn’t a jack hammer
It wasn’t children hopping; it wasn’t the roaring of a tiger
It wasn’t a 747 emergency landing; it was an earthquake
It was God smiling at us to see how we would have reacted
People had panicked miserably; it was the talk of the town
Imagine how we would behave on the eventual day of the frown
We’d probably be crying, grimacing and feeling deserted
No, that wasn’t a plane
No, that wasn’t a train
No, that wasn’t the lake
Yes, that was a 4.8 Earthquake
In the Northeast
Disturbing our peace
Everybody is now scared, talking about it
Everybody is now stressed, having a fit.

Copyright © April 2024, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

Hace Unos Instantes, La Visita De Un Terremoto De Magnitud 4,8

El cinco de abril de 2024, alrededor de las 10:23 horas, todos sentimos un temblor
No era el tren de medianoche; no fue un martillo neumático
No eran niños saltando; no fue el rugido de un tigre
No fue un aterrizaje de emergencia del 747; fue un terremoto
Era Dios sonriéndonos para ver cómo hubiésemos reaccionado
La gente había entrado en pánico miserablemente; era la comidilla de la ciudad
Imagínense cómo nos comportaríamos el eventual día del ceño fruncido
Probablemente estaríamos llorando, haciendo muecas y sintiéndonos abandonados
No, eso no era un avión
No, eso no era un tren
No, ese no era el lago
Sí, ese fue un terremoto de 4,8
En el noreste
Perturbando nuestra paz
Ahora todo el mundo tiene miedo y habla de ello
Ahora todo el mundo está estresado y tiene un ataque.

Copyright © abril de 2024, Hébert Logerie, todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poemas.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Wake

Wake

What is that noise?
I have heard it before?
In the ramblings...
of my loved ones words? 

I must get up and seek it out.
I rise like the house is on fire...
but in fear of being alive, 
but dead still. 
I rush.
I place my slippers on my feet, 
I grab my robe and run!

Not slowly in fear...
Not adequately... 
Not up-a-dee; with pride and pomp.
Not with class or finesse, 
but desperation, 
that I will not,
ever...
hear it,
ever again.

It will be so fast, 
It will not last...
Light would be considered slow. 
As this was the very Essence of 
the brightness that brings light at all...

Humbly I cry, 
and drop to my knees...
as I... now... am... sure..! 
All my "no's" were without weight, 
they had no value, 
and my soul is ablaze, 
and bleeding out. 

Don't leave precious Savior...
Don't leave me here. 
Take me...

Now.
My wife she is missing in our bed. 
My son and daughter are gone. 
I hold my head in my hands, 
weeping for my own tenacity. 
The stubbornness of my own strength. 
The all too importance of my own will.
I am without...
lonely has no definition as to the emptiness, 
perceived daily. 
I am...
is
gone. 

Only it is here, 
and it is always hungry. 
And must be fed.

"Mercy..." 
No breath to speak. 
"Grace..."
A soul 
anguished.

I clutch the pages of the word, 
found ready at hand...
until "they" find it and me, 
and burn it out, or try,
Memorizing each line, 
writing it all, 
down...
to where, 
I am,
now.




Lord, I believe in You. 
You came to save all of us. 
Born of a virgin, died on a cross and rose to heaven. 
In Jesus Holy Name!Amen.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Chess Magic Or Favor

I won five Chess games in a row on 5th May 2020. It is Cinco de Mayo, or a special FREEDOM DAY in Mexican history. Although I may have become addicted to CHESS during the global SARS-COV-2 pandemic and shutdown, I am a rather average player, and I ought not to have won. Especially against Edith, who a day ago was much more highly rated as a player (Stats on the site: www.ChressTempo.com). My handle is Deonils001. I also got 500 points bonus for these 5 straight wins on Cinco de Mayo. I don't know what they mean, or what I might do with my bonus points in Chess.

Now, I may consider the games I ought to have lost, minor miracles or the favor of God. I apologize for strict biblical Christians who may be aghast at hearing this. But each game I was doing badly - usually because I blundered or moved too fast - yet when I said aloud to myself: "I have the favor of God; that's my private miracles," I did win. Go figure ...

Also, finally, I wrote a poem in 4 stanzas on this moments ago and lost it, because my internet froze. Hence this effort at prose since the poem is gone forever into cyberspace. I am reminded what I tell audiences or congregations I speak to: God is interested in your details, your life's details, because He is a personal God. We have a relationship with God or Jesus, we do not have a religion." My total wins since May 2nd (3 days) are 14 of 21 games, with two 5-win streaks. You may wish to check it out on www.ChessTempo.com, where games may be reviewed and followed move-by-move, for my blunders and unlikely victories. But for Favor and Chess Magic! Incidentally, EDITH is a bot or ROBOT player.
© Anil Deo  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Prose

Disappearing New Year

Tickling their tummy's with tinkling bells that twinkle
sounds rumbling upon the roof of eight tiny reindeer
tangled lights and snow transforming a sparkling night
a flickering fire with sparks floating with loves desires

Casting a spell with dreams of toy’s and new games
small voices whispering in bed with exciting emotions  
crackling sounds of Christmas wrapping while giggling
New bikes and sleighs awaiting smiles on Christmas Day

a hog under ground predicting our spring weather
With heart shaped boxes and diamond rings awaiting
Kisses and romantic dinners with nights of desire
Ash on Wednesday with Lint next then Purim

Time springs forward with colorful flowers blooming 
Little green men pots of gold and four leaf clovers
Passing over Palm Sunday then Muslim and Hindu
With all becoming fools on this first day of April

Good Friday coming after Thursday then eggs are hidden
Then evil appears taking our money away on Tax Day
My day now called May Day then Cinco de Mayo
All Mothers honored then Memorial Day on the way

Of course Fathers Day is next with fireworks on the 4th
Then all go into labor this one day a year on Labor Day
Spooks, goblins and candy treats with witch's on a broom
Veterans honored and flowers placed upon their tombs 

The turkey arrives all golden brown as we get stuffed
Black Friday’s appear with shopping pushing and shoving
Getting ready for the first stanza up above
This circle of life happens each year some may see,

Others will be missed a loss to all of our hearts,
As they disappear from our lives never to see another,
Happy New Year.
© Bobby May  Create an image from this poem.

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