Long Circumventing Poems
Long Circumventing Poems. Below are the most popular long Circumventing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Circumventing poems by poem length and keyword.
The elderly man we call leader
Would shout as if our ears couldn't hear,
Then whisper with the expectation
We would agree to adhere to his
Foreign invasion~
Ten million strong from every nation.
Who was that girl, he could barely recall,
But he finally did (mis)speak her name
Because it wasn't on the teleprompter,
Neither was the word "illegal"
and his mob soon let him know
the word he should use is "undocumented."
The cities are crying blue tears and repenting,
Their citizens are no longer pretending
That all is peace and joy and love;
Our children are kicked out of school
To make room for all the illegal immigrant poor,
After all don't we owe them the American dream?
I am, you know, adamantly* against illegal immigration. ~Hillary Clinton
We simply cannot allow people to pour into the United States undetected, undocumented, unchecked, and circumventing the line of people who are waiting patiently, diligently, and lawfully to become immigrants in this country. ~Barack Obama
The issues surrounding illegal immigration are wide-ranging and complex, but there is no question about the need to secure our borders. ~Roger Wicker
I have fought on the front lines to prevent illegal immigration. I know Donald Trump will stand with me and countless Americans to secure our border. ~Joe Arpaio
*adamantly(adverb): a way that suggests one will not be persuaded to change one's mind; firmly and resolutely.
Queen in our eyes!
Goddess in our hearts.
Alleviated fears, shaped behaviors,
Built careers, educated a nation,
Sang hymnals through the moments slowly.
She learned to live and love,
Unperturbed by failure, unruffled by haste,
Rising in the midnight glory,
Unbounded by time, undimmed by hope.
She sang dirges in ceremonies,
Boxed by pain, razed with tears,
Called on God in heaven,
Pushed by problems unleashed by dreams.
To wipe our tears and mend our fails,
Charred by life’s harsh realities,
Unbroken by woes, strengthened in invocations,
Into our stubborn adolescent years,
Through hectic times and sickbed comforts.
I reminisce her brief scolding,
Refusing to go to school for no reason,
And all the exquisite wares I broke —
Can’t fathom the pain I caused her.
But she never gave up on me,
Not he, not her, not us.
Even those who laid upon her lap,
A neighborhood mum circumventing the hemisphere
With her selfless deeds.
Spreading euphoria here and there,
With little that she had, her love unrelenting,
For the ones she nurtured beneath her feet,
With a partner she adored since day one.
She smiles, and there is hope,
Of small beginnings and grand endings.
In her voice, comfort and peace,
I will forever be grateful for a mother like you.
So thank you for words uttered,
For actions and inactions,
For love unconditional,
Even in anger, even in pain.
Thank you for souls well nurtured,
The spanks so brusque, the food, the gifts,
Thank you for care unending,
May God bless you always.
Thank you for a life well lived;
In your footsteps we follow suit.
The cul-de-sac of safety comes to mind
when faced alone with problems to resolve;
finding that place where boundaries unwind
a safe cocoon where answers can't evolve.
A dead-end street this cul-de-sac supplies-
where only certain outcomes come and go.
Outside-the-box solutions don't arise;
too easy to remain on this plateau.
To come and go from this safe cul-de-sac,
a zone that shields the sights of what's beyond-
returning to its circumventing track-
will never break this closed and lonely bond.
Around in circles, spinning every day-
where roads of clear, straight thinking fade away.
February 19, 2023
Contest: This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Octopus arm
circumventing mind
reaching soul
through media
lulled eyes
dreaming sex appeal
and riches
sleeping at a wheel
pulled by strings.
Women in clothes
designed to reveal
layers of make up
to conceal
with strength of men
fighting to gain rights
a life to abort
without a thought
as an object exploited.
Men likewise
in satin attire
urged to be feminine
when they know they are not
hiding grief
passing baton on
octopus lies
not daring resist.
Arise from the dust
with an eagle flight
shake off the snake
into the flame and shout:
We are not afraid
we are men and women of faith!
Love means
Never having to say
I am afraid.
Tenth Place: Brian Strand-All Yours-1/18/21
Ninth Place: Lewis Raynes- Modern Vanity-7/23/17
Life is a three-ring circus
Thrice around and around
The jolly merry-go-round
Fun the ultimate purpose
Mesmerized at this and that
Laughter for every age
Exotic animals in a cage
Used to being stared at
Rides speeding up and down
Through hoops and loops
Joining dancing troupes
Circumventing any sad frown
Lining up sideshow freaks
Presenting a two-headed man
Sexy dancers doing the cancan
A bearded lady that wreaks
As he flaunts treacherous highwire act
Ringmaster shows off painted elephants
Clowns making fun of fake elegance
Big top forever designed to attract
AP: 1st place 2025
How times change but don't
for the populace of self made clones
by the past and mistakes often made
of the outcry for the poor and eager on parade.
Surely politicians rise with good intentions
but the party line becomes circumventing
as promise and hope quickly erode
with the campaign promises no longer heard.
Where is the America of dreams
where one could rise beyond the immoral screams
of the famous and the rich bathing in power
who have egotistic goals set in closed off towers.
Look to history and its multitude of lessons
unless each speak out with logical concessions
a president who would be unquestioned king
bears no one honor but self determined responsibility.
Yale student radio (wybcx) is playing throughout the suite. I’m working on chemistry problems but when a song I don’t know is good enough to catch my attention, I add it to one of my gazillion Spotify playlists - God, I love the Internet.
One of our roommates, Sophy, is from California. She’s brilliant and friendly but almost never leaves her room, which she keeps hot and airless. If I’m in there for more than two minutes I have to start peeling off layers of clothing, one by one. She didn’t seem this odd last semester. We take turns, mediating between Sophy and the living, picking up her meals and packages, like vampire assistants.
Then there’s a nice but nerdy guy named Andy, who Anna’s adopted. He’s sitting on our deep, red, four cushion corduroy couch, crafting an essay on his laptop. He’s a divinity student who I rely on to answer my deeper religious questions.
“Do you think Jesus went around telling people his mother is a virgin?,” I’d asked.
“Jesus had brothers,” he answered, “Have you ever read the bible?” He asks.
“My bible is Seventeen magazine.” I say, hand to heart.
“Listen to this!” Andy says - a peremptory order to the room - as he begins reading from his paper. “Disruptivist writers who no longer strive for agency, circumventing narrative in order to resemble the fiction construct, risk losing what Robbe-Grillet called the “intelligibility of the world” and themselves illustrate the exhaustion of forms.” Andy paused. “What do you think?” He asked the room.
No-one says anything. No-one ever understands what Andy’s talking about.
Anna and Sunny are studying and sunbathing in the common room like they’re on some kind of permanent holiday. They occupy two generous rectangles of sunlight streaming in through the closed picture windows.
They’re laying on yoga mats, almost shoulder to shoulder, wearing bikinis and Wayfarer Ray-Bans. It’s 12° degrees outside but there’s an oil heater with a fan blowing across it that provides them with a sun-like warmth.
Welcome to higher learning 2022